


Missing the Mark

by Redjay27



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bits of fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, I think that about covers it..., M/M, Matt's only in there for like two seconds but I love him so whatever, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, also had to mess with the spacing of ages to fit the story, bits of agnst, but it's not too bad, hangovers, it's nothing major though, minimal violence, slightly aged up characters, some drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 06:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redjay27/pseuds/Redjay27
Summary: The only tangible evidence the world had for the phrase ‘the universe works in mysterious ways’ was the black marks that could be found on the skin of those who had yet to meet their soulmate. Everyone had a mark at some point in their life…well, everyone except Lance. But he had learned to live in spite of his missing mark. What else was he supposed to do when the universe turned its back on him?The mark on Keith’s skin was a curse. At first, he had wholeheartedly looked forward to meeting the person that would accept him no matter what. But as the years went by, he found himself believing the harsh words that had been repeated to him over and over again: Who could ever love someone like him? No, it was better to hide his mark away. Never having a soulmate was better than having one and losing them.What will happen when both of them learn how mysterious the universe can actually be?





	Missing the Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! This story came to life while I was in my feelings one night and [Someone to You by BANNERS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Wv5G58YRAU) came on shuffle. If your interested in the song that inspired this story, just click on the title and bam! There ya go. 
> 
> WARNING: Very minimal amounts of violence and there's some mention of vomit. Neither are graphic in any way but I just thought I'd warn you ahead of time.
> 
> Please enjoy, and I'll see ya at the end.

“Lance!”

Lance looked up from the phone that was in his hand at the sound of his name. “Uh, that’s me!” He called over the cacophonous noise that filled the small cafe. He pushed his way past the crowd of people surrounding the pick-up counter, giving the barista that had called his name a brilliant smile.

She smiled back, but Lance could see the frustration in her eyes. He didn’t blame her. The cafe was busy. She had probably spent the last hour dealing with whiny and indecisive customers. That would leave anybody in a perpetual state of irritation and general ‘doneness’ with the world. Customer service was the worst.

As Lance took the to-go cup from her, he noticed a black spot that covered the top half of her thumb. That also didn’t surprise Lance. She was a barista. She handed people drinks all day long. Of course her soulmark was going to be on her hand. It just made sense.

His thoughts on the matter went no further than that.

“Have a nice day.” The barista said, her voice cheerful.

“Thanks. You too.” Lance replied, giving her one last smile before turning and pushing his way back through the crowd. He ignored the angry grumbles and grunts that were thrown his direction as he exited the cafe. Now outside, Lance was hit with the December winds that swept through the streets, tearing at his coat and threatening to send his scarf flying up into the grey clouds that hung lowly in the sky. Small flakes of snow drifted down towards the life of the city, dissolving as they hit the pavement. Puffs of breath could be seen coming from the crowd of people that were making their early commute to work. The pace of the foot traffic was quicker than usual, people desperate to get away from the winter flurry.

Lance dug one hand into the pocket of his coat, the other still holding the to-go cup. The liquid inside warmed his fingers enough to save them from the biting cold. He could feel his cheeks start to sting as he headed towards his job. He dug his face into his scarf, letting the wool catch his warm breath, stopping his nose from going numb.

The walk from the cafe to the building where he worked was a short one, less than ten minutes. Even so, by the time he entered the heated building, Lance had lost all feeling in his toes. He knew it would take at least an hour for them to thaw. Great. Just how he wanted to start his day.

Lance passed the elevators in the lobby of the building, instead electing to take the stairs. He had grown sick of riding in elevators with tired, moody cops. They always complained about the same two things: the weather and how long their shift was. Lance had been forced to be part of those conversations enough for one lifetime. So the stairs it was. It wasn’t so bad. It was only four floors up. At most his calves burned a little. He could handle that. Compared to everything else in his life? Yeah, stairs were nothing.

It wasn’t so much that his life was bad. No, in fact it was far from bad. It was more so that he was tired of having to justify why it was good. He was tired of the looks of pity, of the endless questions about how he was dealing, of the unprompted motivational speeches. They were all unnecessary. Lance was happy, he really was. It had taken a few years to reach his current level of contentedness with how things had turned out, but when all was said and done, he was perfectly fine.

People had a hard time believing that, however. A fact that would forever be a source of irritation for him.

Arriving on the fourth floor, Lance headed straight into the chaos of the bullpen. Officers and citizens alike moved across the space in seemingly purposeless patterns. Phones rang out, adding to the mayhem as the night shift left and the day shift took over. Lance skillfully maneuvered through all of it, heading towards the small hallway on the other side.

He nodded at the captain as he passed his office like he did every morning. He’d only talked to him a handful of times, but the man seemed nice enough. Captain Shirogane nodded back, face firm but eyes friendly.

Lance continued on his way, muttering “Morning” to a few of the detectives that he passed. He was lucky enough that most of them knew him by name. It allowed him access to all of the precinct gossip and even the occasional blackmail. He wasn’t proud of that. Being a young, skinny, IT guy in a building full of wannabe alpha males had required him to go to some extreme measures to be left alone. Hearing constant jokes about how he could be snapped in half like a toothpick was enough to make anyone go a little crazy. So could he really be blamed?

When he finally entered the tiny IT office that sat at the end of a hallway that branched off from the bullpen, Lance was more than happy to leave the chaos behind. He really hated walking through it. He could only imagine working there. No thanks. Not in this lifetime.

“Cutting it a bit close, dontcha think?” Pidge said from their desk, not looking up from the laptop that was open in front of them. Lance could see lines of code reflected in their glasses.

“Eh, a little. I was up pretty late last night so I stopped to get some coffee.” Lance replied, moving towards his own desk and setting the to-go cup that he had yet to drink from down. He then unslung his bag from his shoulder and dropped it to the floor next to his desk.

“What were you doing?” Hunk asked, leaning back in his desk chair, a curious look on his face.

“More like ‘who’.” Pidge said with a snort. “But that’s a stupid question. You probably don’t even remember her name.”

Lance chuckled as he took off his scarf and coat and hung them on the small coat rack by the door. “ _His_ name this time.” He corrected. “And no, I don’t.”

“Ha! Knew it!” Pidge said, finally looking up from their laptop to give Lance a smug look.

Lance only rolled his eyes as he sat down at his desk, tapping the spacebar of his computer a few times to wake it up.

“Unbelievable.” Hunk said with a disappointed sigh.

“Aw, don’t worry.” Lance replied, shooting his friend a playful grin. “You’ll have your fun soon enough.”

“Lance!” Pidge barked, tossing one of the plushies on their desk at him. “Don’t be rude!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Lance replied, easily deflecting the plushie and watching as it fell to the floor.

“Let him joke all he wants.” Hunk replied, placing his hands behind his head leisurely. “Someday he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lance asked, raising his eyebrows at Hunk.

“Someday you’re gonna sleep with the wrong person and the next day you’ll have an angry soulmate knocking at your door.” Hunk said matter-of-factly. “Next thing you know, you’re showing up to work with a black eye.”

“I’d pay to see that.” Pidge muttered, looking at their laptop once more.

“Thanks, guys. You’re so nice.” Lance said sarcastically. “I would never sleep with someone who’s _already_ found their soulmate. I’m not a dick.”

“People lie. All the time.” Hunk pointed out. “I’m just saying you gotta be careful.”

“I _am_ careful.” Lance replied. “They gotta show me their mark before anything happens.”

Pidge snorted again. “I’m sure _that’s_ a good way to set the mood.”

Lance just shrugged. “Most people understand. And if not, bye.”

“Fair enough, I guess.” Hunk said.

Lance let the conversation come to a close, not really wanting to talk about soulmarks anymore. Soulmarks were a mystery for the most part. No one knew what caused them or how they appeared. They just did. Every soulmark was black. And not just black. But _black._ It was a color that couldn’t be replicated. Staring at a soulmark was like staring into an abyss, like the mark itself was holding a piece of the universe. All soulmarks were different shapes, sizes, and appeared on different places of the body. The most common were the hands. Nine times out of ten the soulmark would be on the palm in the form of a handshake.

Why?

Because the soulmark would appear where your soulmate would first touch you, skin-to-skin. After the first contact, the soulmark would disappear and your happily ever after began. Or at least that was how it was supposed to go.

Not for Lance.

Soulmarks appeared on a person’s thirteenth birthday. Never early and never late. Always right on time.

Lance had grown up excited about the idea of having a soulmate. How could he not? It was a blessing to know that someone out there was his perfect other half. He would fantasize about the first meeting or the family they would someday have. He was naive, ignorant, foolish.

When his thirteenth birthday had come, Lance had spent the entire day in front of the mirror, twisting and turning in every which direction in hopes of catching a glimpse of his soulmark. But, as the day had worn on and there was no mark to be found, his worst fear started to become a possibility. He started checking places that he might’ve missed. The back of the knee. Behind his ear. The bottom of his foot. There was nothing.

As the clock drew closer to midnight, Lance had curled up in his bed, hugging his knees to his chest as he sobbed. What else was he supposed to do? It was too much for his young mind to comprehend. What was he supposed to think when the universe told him there would never be someone who loved him more than anybody else? What was he supposed to do when he was denied the happiness the rest of the world got? What was he supposed to do knowing that he would never be someone’s first choice?

When the clock struck midnight, Lance didn’t dare to check the mirror one last time. It hurt too much. Instead, he just let out another sob that echoed around his cold, empty room.

That was years ago, though. He was now a perfectly jaded twenty-three-year-old who basked in the freedom of not having a soulmark. There was nothing tying him down. He never had to worry about pleasing a soulmate he never met. He could party with who he wanted to party with, make out with who he wanted to make out with, and sleep with who he wanted to sleep with. It was a pretty sweet deal.

“Anything Earth-shattering?” Pidge asked, seeing that he was scrolling through the requests that were sent in during the night shift.

“Let’s see…” Lance replied, eyes scanning his screen. Working in an IT department for a police precinct wasn’t necessarily the most exciting job. At the most they dealt with the internet going down. Aside from that, it was usually pretty quiet. “Broken mouse...glitchy monitor...oh, paper jam! I’ll send that one to you, Hunk.”

“Thanks.” Hunk said dryly. Hunk was the best when it came to the more mechanical-esque problems. Every broken copier or malfunctioning fax machine was handed over to him. Lance had a sneaking suspicion that some of the paper jams and other such nonsense that got put into the system was just an excuse to see Hunk. Out of the three of them, Hunk had been around the longest, having graduated a year before both Pidge and himself. Everybody liked him and wouldn’t say no to having a nice, long chat with him on one of the slower days.

“I’ll take the glitchy monitor.” Pidge said. “I’ll fix that baby up in no time.”

“Sure thing.” Lance said, forwarding the request. Pidge was the best when it came to dealing with actual computers. They could take one apart and put it back together in no time. They also were a master at coding; he wouldn’t be surprised if they dreamt in binary.

Most people avoided Pidge, not able to deal with their snarky attitude and quick wit. They were hired around the same time Lance was despite their young age. Apparently, they had skipped a few grades here and there being some type of genius and all that. Once Lance asked them why they had decided to work in something as boring as an IT job. They had only said that it would give them enough time to work on their own projects.

...Lance was pretty sure they were going to rule the world someday.

“And that leaves me with the broken mouse.” Lance said. “Yay…”

Lance didn’t have a specialty. He was pretty decent at all areas of his job. In a pinch he would be able to get the job done. Reliable. That’s the word Hunk had used. Lance liked to think of himself as adaptable, able to just go with the flow…a good metaphor for the rest of his life.

Despite the mundaneness, Lance liked his job. The work was easy, he was friends with his coworkers, and he got weekends off. At the moment, Lance was living the dream. He had no intention of leaving anytime soon. He was content.

“I think we’ve got some extra ones over there.” Hunk said, pointing to one of the plastic tubs that sat on the small shelf in the corner of the office. “Welp, I’m off to the first floor. Hopefully I won’t be gone long.”

“See ya.” Lance said as he stood and made his way over to the shelf. Moments later he heard the door open and close.

“I’m outta here too. I’ll be on the third floor if you need me.” Pidge said, the sound of their laptop closing accompanying their voice.

“I think I can handle a broken mouse.” Lance said in a flat voice, opening the lid to the tub Hunk had pointed at. Looking inside he could see a mess of wires and cables that had no rhyme or reason to them. “How much you wanna bet the mouse isn’t actually broken and just came unplugged?”

He heard Pidge laugh from behind him. “Twenty bucks says it’s actually broken.”

“Deal.” Lance replied, smirking at his small friend over his shoulder.

Pidge just laughed again before picking up their bag and leaving the room, throwing a wave over their shoulder.

Lance turned back to the tub, a sigh escaping his lips. “Christ...we really need to organize…”

With a slight shake of his head, Lance started to dig around in the tub, trying to look for any sign of a mouse in the tangled bunch of wires. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach as he searched. He found himself quickly losing hope of ever finding any type of mouse at all.

“Aha!” Lance shouted as his hand pushed a ball of wires to the side and a black mouse came into view. “Gotcha!”

Untangling the mouse took a little longer than he would like to admit, but after some choice words aimed at the tub of wires and an intense struggle, he finally pulled it free.

“This mouse better be actually broken…” Lance muttered angrily as he put the tub back and headed back towards his desk. “Or else someone’s _really_ gonna regret putting that request in.” Lance leaned over his desk, checking the request again to see where it came from. “Rolo? Really?”

It was unusual for the detective to put in a request. He wasn’t a complete moron when it came to computers, so he could usually fix any problem he had by himself. He would for sure know to just plug the mouse back in if it wasn’t working. It must really be broken.

“Lost that bet.” Lance said to no one as he locked his computer. He then took a large gulp of his coffee, knowing that he’d need it if he was about to head back out into the bullpen. After, he left the office, not bothering to take his bag with him.

Rolo’s desk was on the fourth floor, situated slightly out of the way of the main hustle and bustle. Lance liked Rolo. He worked night shifts, so Lance had only ever briefly talked to him, but he seemed pretty chill. Didn’t get involved in the precinct drama, stayed out of people’s way, got his job done. An all-around cool guy.

He liked Rolo even more for the fact that he currently didn’t have a desk mate on the day shift. Nyma had met her soulmate a couple months back and decided to pack up and leave state to go live with him. Lance didn’t care too much about that. He was happy for her, sure. But that was about it. No, Lance liked that that meant he could sit and work at the computer without having to deal with the usual grumbles he got when he had to kick someone out.

No one seemed to spare Lance a second glance as he made his way to Rolo’s desk. He picked up little bits and pieces of conversation as he passed different desks, most of it centered around weekend plans and the weather. It was _always_ the weather.

As Lance arrived at the empty desk, he stopped short of sitting down, eyes going wide. “What...the...fuck?”

There was no doubt in Lance’s mind now. He had definitely lost the bet. The mouse wasn’t just broken...it was completely smashed to pieces! Wires spilled out of the cracked and shattered plastic that held the poor thing together. It looked like someone had squashed it. Although, Lance highly doubted that Rolo would do such a thing.

Lance, different scenarios of what could’ve happened to this defenseless mouse circulating through his brain, sat down at the desk. “R.I.P little guy.” He said as he reached behind the monitor to unplug it.

“Who the hell are you?”

Lance stopped his movements as a shadow fell over him. He glanced up at the unfamiliar voice, blue eyes meeting fierce indigo ones. A man stood over him, probably not too much older than himself. His skin was pale, a sharp contrast to his raven-black hair that settled softly across his forehead and down the back of his neck. His face was surprisingly stunning, his features defined but not so much as to be sharp. Lance wasn’t afraid to admit that he was fairly attractive.

...Okay, really attractive. Damn.

“Lance.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Care to be more specific?”

Lance had a feeling this guy was a piece of work. Better to avoid setting him off. He was in no mood to deal with hotheads. “IT guy. Came to fix the mouse...er, well replace the mouse actually. This one’s beyond help. Who are you?”

The guy’s expression didn’t change. “I work here. This is my desk.”

 _'This guy.’_ Lance thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, I figured that out on my own.” Lance replied dryly. “I was thinking something along the lines of a name.”

“I don’t see why it would matter to you.” Came his reply, crossing his arms over his chest.

Irritation started to prickle in Lance’s brain. “Wow, okay. So you’re a dick. Got it. Thanks for the clarification.”

“Excuse me?” The man said, voice hostile.

“I called you a dick.” Lance said, making his own voice steely. “Try to keep up.”

The raven-haired man let out a sarcastic huff. “Yeah, as if I’d ever fall behind someone who works in IT. Couldn’t find a real job?”

Lance went from mildly irritated to seeing red in an instant. Who the _fuck_ did this guy think he was? Acting all high and mighty? Lance didn’t have to put up with this. He didn’t owe this guy _shit!_

“Well, fine!” Lance said, standing up and grabbing the replacement mouse off the desk. “If you’re so capable, then find your own damn mouse!” Lance stormed past the guy, shoulder-checking him as he went. He hoped it hurt. He hoped to _god_ it hurt.

He ignored the stares and hushed whispers of the bullpen as he marched back towards the IT office. Rage boiled beneath his skin, lighting a fire in his eyes. He knew his job wasn’t the best job in the world, but he’d be _damned_ if he was gonna sit back and watch someone insult it. He did _not_ go to four years of college to be told that he wasn’t as good as some rookie detective. Hell to the no!

Lance slammed the door behind him as he got back to the office, making sure it was loud enough for the whole floor to hear.

\-----

It had been the worst week of Keith’s entire life. And that included the week he had food poisoning. He would take that over the shitstorm he had been suffering through for the past four days.

He had told Shiro this wasn’t a good idea. He had told Shiro that people would hate him. He had told Shiro that he’d be labeled as ‘captain’s favorite’ the moment he stepped onto the fourth floor. But had Shiro listened? No. He just said that Keith deserved it and he was the only person he wanted to replace Nyma.

Keith knew he was young to be a detective. He knew people probably doubted his abilities. He knew he had pissed off a lot of people by taking the job. But he had never imagined it would be _this_ bad.

Everyone hated him. The uniformed officers hated him. The civilian employees hated him. His fellow detectives hated him. No one listened to what he had to say. No one answered any of the questions he had. No one felt the need to keep him up to speed on any cases he was _supposed_ to be helping with.

And it wasn’t like he could tell Shiro any of this. That would just make everyone hate him even more. But Keith was stubborn. He didn’t plan on quitting. He wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction.

Unfortunately, that stubbornness had led to some collateral damage. It wasn’t entirely his fault. Sure, it was technically his fist that had smashed the mouse, but he had been provoked...kinda. He had been tired of hearing his name whispered everywhere he went. He was tired of the glares and the pretending like he wasn’t there. And, in a burst of poor judgement, he had lost his temper. The mouse didn’t stand a chance.

That had been yesterday. He didn’t think things could get much worse until...

“Well, fine! If you’re so capable, then find your own damn mouse!” The IT guy who called himself Lance stormed past him, hitting him square in the shoulder with his own. Keith couldn’t help but wince. That was definitely going to leave a bruise. He was surprisingly strong for someone so skinny.

Keith watched him walk away, already feeling guilty about the encounter. When he saw someone sitting at his desk, he immediately thought it was someone trying to mess with him. With the way his week was going, it wasn’t even that surprising. And yeah, clearly Keith had jumped to conclusions. It was obvious that the guy didn’t know who Keith was.

But then that lead to the question of if he was only replacing Keith’s mouse because he didn’t know Keith was the new guy everyone hated. So, Keith had decided to wait until after he replaced the mouse to tell him. That way there was no chance of him suddenly changing his mind and leaving him with a broken mouse.

Yeah, he probably could’ve phrased it better, but he was at his wits end, okay? And so _of course_ the guy called him a dick. And _of course_ that lit Keith’s short fuse. And then the guy was storming away, taking the new mouse with him. And so he had made enemies with the one person that was actually going to help him.

Keith just really couldn’t catch a break.

A few moments after the IT guy disappeared down a hallway there was a loud slam. Keith flinched, guilt stirring in his stomach. The bullpen was silent as they all stared at where that Lance guy had disappeared to. It seemed their argument hadn’t gone unnoticed. Perfect. That meant-

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice called sternly. “Let’s talk.”

-that Shiro would want to talk to him. Keith could feel all eyes turn to him, all either judging him or finding some enjoyment in the display he put on.

 _‘Shit.’_ Keith thought. _‘You’ve really messed up this time.’_

“Sure.” Keith said, not making eye contact with anybody as he followed Shiro into his office.

“Shut the door.” Shiro said as he took a seat at his desk. His expression was unreadable, something that Keith feared.

Keith did as he was told and then sat down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of Shiro’s desk. Keith decided it was best to speak first, knowing that if he could steer the conversation he might not have to see Shiro’s disappointed look.

“You saw that.” Keith said. It wasn’t a question.

“I did.” Came Shiro’s reply. He was sitting forward in his chair, arms resting on his desk and hands clasped together.

“And?” Keith asked hesitantly.

“And it takes a special type of jackass to get on Lance’s bad side. I’ve never seen him that mad.”

Keith sighed, sinking further into his chair. He closed his eyes, trying to brace himself against the regret that was coursing through his veins.

“Keith, what happened? You’ve been distant all week. Talk to me.” Shiro said, his captain’s voice shifting to his brotherly one.

Keith opened his eyes, shaking his head a little. “Honestly, everything’s fine. I’m just a little stressed. New job and all that.”

“A little stress leads to you pissing off the IT guy?” Shiro asked, looking at Keith in disbelief.

“Seems so.” Was the only thing Keith offered up in response.

And there it was. Shiro’s disappointed look.

Keith dropped his eyes to the floor, crossing his arms over his chest in hopes that it would shield him from the guilt of lying to Shiro. “Seriously, you don’t have to worry. I’m fine.”

Shiro sighed. “I really didn’t want to have to do this, but since you won’t talk to me...go home, Keith.”

Keith sat up straight, fear gripping his insides. He couldn’t go home early on a Friday. Everyone would hate him even more. He’d never get on anyone’s good side if they thought Shiro was giving him special treatment. “I said I’m fi-”

“That’s an order.” Shiro cut him off sternly. “Spend the weekend clearing your head. And on Monday I expect you to come back and apologize to Lance.”

“But-”

“Dismissed. Leave the door open on your way out.” Shiro said, giving him a look that let him know the conversation was over.

Keith let out an irritated huff as he stood up, shooting his older brother a glare. Shiro ignored him, simply turning back to the reports that were scattered on his desk. That only escalated Keith’s irritation as he left the office, hands tightening into fists and jaw clenching.

Once again, he could feel all eyes on him as he walked back through the bullpen, curious gazes mixed with judgmental ones. Keith tried to not let them get to him knowing that it would only make things worse. He kept his eyes trained on his desk as he approached, trying to pretend that he couldn’t hear his name whispered over and over again. Fuck all of them.

Keith only stopped momentarily at his desk to lock his gun away and grab his jacket from the back of his chair, gaze briefly falling to the smashed mouse.

‘ _This is your fault.’_ He thought, knowing that it a hundred percent was not. Ultimately it had been him who had lost his temper both at the mouse and Lance but blaming something else made him feel better.

Keith kept his head up as he left the fourth floor, electing to take the stairs instead of awkwardly waiting for the elevator. The sooner he was away from the glares, the better. Keith pulled his jacket on as he descended the stairs, wishing that he could just be home already. Locking himself in his apartment while distracting himself with mindless TV sounded about perfect at the moment. That way he wouldn’t have to think about his job or Lance or anything.

Keith paid no attention to the people in the lobby, instead just brushing past them and heading out into the flurry of snow that had started to stick, creating a thin white sheet over the less-traveled areas of the sidewalk. Keith turned right, heading towards his apartment building. He was lucky enough to only live a couple blocks from the precinct, making his morning commute short.

Keith shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked along the city streets, fingers already becoming numb from the cold. The wind blew at him with an almost vengeful ferocity, blowing his hair back away from his face and making his eyes water. He hunched his shoulders as he walked, trying to guard against the biting chill.

Keith was used to being the odd one out, the loner, the one that people avoided. So really, he shouldn’t be surprised that this job was anything different. But no matter how many times he experienced isolation from his peers and coworkers, it still stung in the worst way.

Even as a child he had never been truly accepted. The other kids had avoided him, saying he was too short, too pale, that his eyes were too weird. He was called a runt, a shrimp, too alien to play with everyone else. The insults were relentless. And as a kid, they hurt. Probably more than Keith would like to admit.

Things got better when he turned thirteen. He remembered waking up to see the black marks on his hand. There were five of them altogether. Four of them stained the skin between the fingers on his right hand, stretching down the back of his hand and ending between his knuckles. The fifth was a stripe that ran horizontally across the base of the backside of this thumb. Keith had loved his soulmark. It was the first time in his life that he knew for certain that there was going to be someone that loved him for him. That wouldn’t look at him and see how short he was or how pale he was. They wouldn’t laugh at the color of his eyes, calling him a freak. They would look at him and accept every part of him. For a kid that didn’t have much in the way of friends, it was a comforting thought.

That didn’t last long.

As with everything in his life, the other kids at school immediately turned it into something to make fun of him for. They claimed that he probably drew the mark on with sharpie because who could ever love someone like him? They said they felt sorry for whoever ended up with him. They said that his soulmate probably hated him and would leave as soon as they made first contact.

Keith tried to not let their comments bother him. He tried to tell himself that his soulmate would love him for him. But as the bullying increased, his spirit waned. He started to wonder if they could be right, if his soulmate would hate him. If they would take one look at him and leave, telling him that he wasn’t worth their time.

And that scared him.

So at the age of fifteen, Keith bought his first pair of fingerless gloves to hide the mark not only from others, but also from himself. There was nothing he could do about meeting his soulmate someday, but he could prevent himself from ever knowing they were his soulmate. If their skin never touched, they would never be the wiser. And Keith wouldn’t have to face the possibility that he could be rejected by the one person that was supposed to be his happy ending. He wasn’t sure he could take the pain after so many years of emotional degradation. Because while he had grown to be an averaged-sized man and his skin had tanned some, he could never grow out of the scars that had marked his heart so many years ago.

Keith pulled his right hand out of his pocket, staring down at the slightly creased leather of his glove. He knew that just below rested the five black marks waiting to feel the skin of his soulmate. Keith would never let that happen. He’d rather not have a soulmate than have one and lose them. And as a bonus, he was saving his soulmate the trouble of having to let him down. So, it worked out for both of them.

In a world that was built upon the foundations of eternal love, Keith was content with being alone.

\-----

Lance was still fuming when Pidge returned from fixing the glitchy monitor. He was pacing back and forth in the small office, muttering to himself. He felt like throwing something or kicking a wall or storming back out there and punching the guy in the face. Insulting him _and_ his job in the same breath? Like hell Lance was gonna let that go! It might not be the best job in the world, but it was _his_ and he was _good at it!_

“What the hell happened to you?” Pidge asked as they entered the office, eyes following Lance as he paced.

“There was this guy and he was such a...such a...” Lance trailed off, trying to think of a good enough insult.

“Prick?” Pidge offered.

“Yes! He was a prick! And the mouse was smashed! And he wouldn’t tell me his name!” Lance was rambling, fingers pulling at his hair in his anger.

“Okay, you’ve lost me.” Pidge said, moving further into the room to sit down at their desk. “What happened?”

Lance stopped his pacing, taking a deep breath as he did. It didn’t seem to help calm his rage. He then turned to Pidge and said, “They found Nyma’s replacement.”

“Really? Sweet. New blood’s always cool.” Pidge replied, leaning back in their chair.

“Not this time!” Lance said. “The guy they found is such a dick. He’s arrogant and rude a-and just...the _worst_ person I’ve ever met!”

“You want to sleep with him, don’t you?” Pidge asked casually, a slight smirk on their face.

“Just a little!” Lance shot at them. “But that’s _only_ because he has a nice face. His personality is shit though and I would never stoop to that level.”

“Hmm...fair.” Pidge said. “So what did he do to you?”

“What do you think?” Lance growled, picturing the mystery man’s stupid face again. “He insulted me! And my job!”

Pidge raised their eyebrows at him. “You insult your job all the time. I once heard you call it the 'definition of a dead end'.”

“Yeah, but I’m allowed to do that because it’s _my_ job.” Lance retorted. “It’s different when it’s some bad-boy detective saying it’s not a real job.”

“Bad-boy detective?”

“He wore a lotta black, okay? And fingerless gloves. So yeah, a bad-boy...or just really really emo.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just make this guy up? He doesn’t sound real.” Pidge asked.

Lance rolled his eyes at his small friend. “I’m sure. He’s real and I hate him.”

“So I take it you didn’t end up filling the request.” Pidge said, reaching down into their bag to pull their laptop out.

“Nope.” Lance said, a proud smirk on his face. “Told him he could fix the problem himself if he thought he was so great.”

“Hunk’s not gonna like that. You know he says we should stay on the good side of all of the detectives.” Pidge said, tapping the spacebar to wake the laptop up.

“Well, Hunk wasn’t there so whatever. He can fill the request when he gets back. I refuse to go near that guy ever again.” Lance crossed his arms in defiance.

Pidge just shrugged. “Understandable.”

Lance’s response was cut off by his phone going off. He pulled the device from his pocket, eyes scanning the screen.

“It’s an email from the captain…” Lance said, surprise evident in his voice. “He never emails us.”

“Must be serious then.” Pidge said, voice curious. “What does it say?”

Lance opened the email, quickly reading over the short message. “He wants to see me. That’s all it says.”

“Oooooooo!” Pidge said, giving him a devilish smirk. “Someone’s in trooouuuble!”

“For what?” Lance said, shooting them a glare. “I didn’t do anything.”

Pidge just gave him an innocent shrug. “Who knows? Maybe that new detective is the captain’s protege or something and you just refused to help him. You’re a dead-man-walking.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll be okay.” Lance replied, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“It was truly a pleasure working with you.” Pidge said, standing and giving him a salute.

Lance just rolled his eyes and then left the room. Leave it to Pidge to over-dramatize everything. The walk to the captain’s office was short, but it was definitely long enough for his stomach to turn into a pit of swirling anxiety. Why would the captain want to see him? The only explanation was that it had something to do with the incident earlier. But why would the captain get involved with something like that? That was really more of a sergeant’s job than a captain’s. So...what if that detective _was_ the golden boy or something? What if Lance had pissed off the wrong person? He really didn’t want to lose his job. He was still drowning in student loans and struggling to pay rent. He couldn’t afford to be fired.

By the time Lance had reached the captain’s office and knocked on the open door, he had nearly thought himself into a stupor. A wave of nausea had overcome him, turning his skin an unnatural pale. Beads of nervous sweat rolled down the sides of his face, only adding to his discomfort.

“Ah, Lance thanks for…” The captain looked up at him, eyes going slightly wide at the sight in front of him. “Are you okay?”

No, he wasn't okay. He felt like he was about to die. “If you’re going to fire me, just please do it quickly.” Lance somehow managed to squeak out.

“Fire you? Why would I fire you?” The captain asked, his voice still concerned.

Lance let out a long breath, slumping against the door. “Oh, thank god…I really didn’t wanna lose my job.”

“Right...” The captain said slowly, his face still slightly concerned. “I do have a favor to ask you so why don’t you take a seat?”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Lance said, perking up. He moved to sit in one of the seats across from the captain. “So what do ya need, Captain? Something wrong with your computer?”

“Shiro. Call me Shiro. Captain’s too formal.” Shiro said with a wave of his hand. “And no, it’s nothing like that.” He leaned back in his chair, a troubled look crossing his face. “More like something’s wrong with one of my detectives.”

Lance cocked his head to the side in confusion. “I don’t follow.”

“I saw what happened earlier with Keith.”

“That new detective?” Lance asked. When he received a nod, Lance found his voice turning dark. “What about him?”

“For the sake of full disclosure, he’s my brother.”

If Lance had been drinking something he would’ve spit it out. “What?! How? You’re so…” Lance gestured to Shiro frantically. “And he’s so...not!”

“Keith had a hard time growing up. I won’t get into specifics, but it was rough.” Shiro explained, a slight strain to his tone.

“Doesn’t give him an excuse to be a jerk.” Lance replied, voice steely.

“You’re right. It’s doesn’t.” Shiro agreed. “But he doesn’t usually outright insult someone like he did to you earlier. I can’t help thinking that there’s another reason for it.”

“Okay…” Lance said slowly. “With all due respect, sir, why are you telling me this?”

“Because when I talked to him earlier he seemed to regret what happened.” Shiro replied. “And that leaves us with an unique opportunity.”

Lance narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I don’t think I like where this is going.”

“I want you to figure out what’s bothering him. He won’t tell me because I’m his boss now, but he’ll talk to you. Not many people would stand up to him like you did. He’ll respect that...or at least feel guilty enough about the whole ordeal to put up with you.”

“Me? Oh no no.” Lance said, shaking his head. “You’ve got the wrong guy. No way. He _hates_ me.”

“He doesn’t hate you...probably.” Shiro said, not looking like he was believing his own words.

“Thanks.” Lance replied dryly. “Makes me feel real confident.”

“Look, I’m not asking you this as your captain. I’d consider it a personal favor. So, you can say no. But it wouldn’t be too bad to have the captain owe you one.” Shiro gave him something just short of a desperate look.

Lance didn’t answer for a moment, contemplating the offer. It _would_ be nice to have a favor from the captain stored in his back pocket. What if he was feeling like taking a three-day weekend? What if he had a really bad hangover one day and didn’t want to come in? Yeah, that favor could definitely come in handy. On the other hand, he’d have to spend time with Keith. The same Keith who not even an hour ago had told him he didn’t have a real job. The same Keith who he had angrily shoulder checked. The same Keith who he had called a dick. Yeah...he didn’t think hanging around that guy would lead to anything good.

But the favor…

But Keith…

But the favor…

Lance let out a long sigh. “Fine...I guess I can _try_ to figure out what’s wrong with him. No promises though. And I’m _not_ becoming friends with him.”

“That’s fine.” Shiro said, nodding. “I’m just asking you to be civil.”

“I think I can manage that.” Lance replied, sounding more confident than he felt.

“Where is he?”

“Gone for the weekend, but he’ll be back on Monday. You can start then.”

“Okay, then.” Lance said, wondering what exactly he’d gotten himself into. “Monday it is.”

\-----

The quiet of the room was only broken by the hum of the space heater and his breathing. It was late enough for the noises of the city to die down so as not to be heard through his bedroom walls. Even though the sun had set hours ago, a faint yellow hue could still be seen filtering through the curtains that covered the one window in his room, the lights from the building across the street seeping into his small apartment.

Keith lay on his back atop his bed, not bothering to get beneath the covers. His hair was still damp from the shower he had taken, creating a wet spot on one of his pillows. He wore his favorite pair of sweatpants along with a soft cotton t-shirt that hung off him loosely. One of his hands was laid over his stomach, rising and falling with each breath he took. His other was held up over his head, his eyes staring at the five black spots that plagued his skin.

His soulmark was nothing special, he knew that. Lots of people had soulmarks on their hands. It really only made sense given the mechanics of soulmarks in general. But still, he found his strangely beautiful. It was like he could get lost in the depth of the black without even realizing it.

Don’t get him wrong, he hated his soulmark. He hated all of the torture it brought with it. He often wished that it had never come, that he could be one of the lucky few to not have one. But he could admire the wonder surrounding it.

And sometimes, when he was feeling exceptionally lonely, he would even imagine a hand reaching out and taking his, lacing their fingers together, touch lining up perfectly with the marks. But he wouldn’t let it go further than that. It _couldn’t_ go further than that. It wasn’t that he didn’t think eternal happiness was possible; he just didn’t think it was possible for him.

Keith dropped his hand back down to his side, forcing himself to look away from the black spots that mocked him. He rolled over onto his side, breathing in the scent of freshly washed sheets. He closed his eyes, knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep, but trying anyway.

His thoughts wandered back to that morning, thinking over the events that had transpired. He still felt bad about what happened with the IT guy...with Lance. He had seemed like a nice enough guy, someone who just wanted to get his job done in peace. Leave it to Keith to come along and fuck up his entire day. He wouldn’t be surprised if the whole IT department hated him now. He wouldn’t even blame them.

Keith sighed as he reopened his eyes, feeling more awake than when he closed them. He sat up slowly, eyes falling on the window. He got up from his bed, footsteps sounding quietly on the carpeted floor. He moved towards the window, pulling the curtain back gently when he reached it.

It had stopped snowing, but there was still piles of white littering the streets below, pushed aside by the snow plows that roamed the city. There were only a few people walking up and down the sidewalks, their shoulders hunched to guard against the cold. It was a quiet night, a peaceful night. A night where the universe seemed to be holding its breath, waiting until morning light peaked over the horizon to exhale.

Keith turned away from the window, heading towards the closet and pulling out one of his heavier sweatshirts. He pulled his arms through the sleeves as he exited his room, heading down the hall and towards the front door. He grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone on his way, knowing that leaving without them could be dangerous in the city. Pulling on his shoes only took moments and then he was out the door, locking it behind him.

The trip down the elevator took only minutes, and soon he was through the lobby of his building and pushing open the door, the crisp December air greeting him. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up as he turned right, walking so that the harsh wind was at his back. A few steps down the road he realized that he forgot his gloves, leaving his hand open to the possibility of finding his soulmate. He contemplated turning back for a moment, but ultimately decided against it. He would just keep his hand in the pocket of his sweatshirt. That would do the trick just fine.

The chill seemed to dispel some of the intrusive thoughts that had swirled around his head only moments ago. His gaze turned upwards as he walked, eyes searching for the stars that were masked by the light filtering down from the buildings around him. He could only see a few muted specks, the rest remained hidden to him, as if they were harboring some truth they didn’t want to share. He could hear the occasional car pass, tires flying across wet pavement. They didn’t sound out of place, instead amplifying the serenity of the winter night.

Keith wasn’t sure how long he walked. Fifteen minutes? Maybe twenty? He couldn’t tell. But eventually, the quiet of the streets was broken by a cacophony of voices. As he drew closer to a corner, he could hear the buzz of conversation and laughter rise in the air and puncture the peace he had found. He wasn’t surprised by the phenomenon. It was a Friday night. Even though it was freezing out, people would still be out partying until the early hours of the morning. He prided himself on the fact that he wasn’t one of them.

Deciding it would be best to head around the block and then back towards his apartment, Keith turned towards the sounds of the crowd. He could see the lights of the club spill out into the street, different shades of red, green, and blue lighting up the surrounding pavement. People were scattered around the building, some leaning against walls, puffs of smoke curling into the air above them. Others were staggering away into the night, trying to make their way home from a night they wouldn’t remember. Keith paid no mind to any of them, knowing that soon enough the club would be far behind him.

“Hey! It’s you!”

Keith glanced over at the familiar voice that had called out, not sure if it was directed at himself or not. He saw a figure leaning against a wall, hanging up the phone that they had been talking into.

“Me?” Keith asked, not able to truly see who the figure was in the dark of night.

“Yeah, you. Mr. Bad-Boy Detective.” The voice replied, pushing themselves off the wall and approaching Keith. As they entered into a pool of light from one of the overhead streetlights, Keith caught sight of who they were. Blue eyes, soft brown hair, tan skin. Lance. The IT guy. Why was he running into the IT guy?

“Fancy meeting you here.” Lance said, shooting him a smirk. “Didn’t think they allowed pricks like you into this place.”

Keith deserved that, so he let it slide. “Wasn’t planning on going inside. Not really my kinda place.” He chose his words carefully, not wanting Lance to get angry with him again.

“Then what are you doing here?” Lance questioned, giving him a curious look.

“Walking mostly.” Keith replied.

“At night?”

“Yeah.”

“In the cold?”

“Seems that way.

“With only a sweatshirt?”

“I don’t mind being cold.”

“Oh, jeez…” Lance said, moving closer to Keith. He sighed as he unwrapped the blue scarf that he was wearing from around his neck. “I really don’t want to wake up tomorrow and see that they found some stupid police detective dead from hypothermia, so here.” He pushed back the hood of Keith’s sweatshirt and wrapped the scarf around his neck, the wool of his gloves lightly brushing against Keith’s skin as he worked. Lance’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he made it sit just right. He then pulled Keith’s hood back up for him. “I expect you to return this.”

“Sure…” Keith muttered, still trying to process what exactly was going on. Earlier that day he had caused the man in front of him to seethe with rage and now he was lending him his scarf? Keith had to be missing something. This was the same guy, right?

“Are you...drunk or something?” Keith asked hesitantly.

“Me? Kinda. Just a little buzzed.” Lance replied with a small shrug. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…” Keith said, not sure if he really wanted to reopen the wound. “Last time I checked, you kinda hated me.”

“Oh, I still hate you.” Lance replied. “But it’s really hard to hate someone when they look like a lost puppy...which you do. Not the image a hotshot police detective should be putting on. But my point is that I can hate someone and still be nice to them. I’m talented like that.”

“Um...okay? Well, thanks I guess.” Keith said, still confused but willing to roll with it if it got him out of this bizarre conversation and on his way. He knew he still owed Lance an apology, but he honestly didn’t think he had the mental capacity at this time of night to make it sound genuine.

“You're welcome.” Lance said, slightly more forcefully than Keith was expecting. “Now let’s go.”

“Go?” Keith asked, becoming even more confused. “Go where?”

He saw Lance roll his eyes. “To wherever you live. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about what time of night you decide to go for a stroll, but I draw the line when it’s ten degrees out and you’re wearing that.” Lance gestured up and down Keith. “So I’m making sure you get home _before_ you freeze to death.”

“Look.” Keith said, not in any mood to be escorted anywhere like a child. “I appreciate it, really. But I think I can manage walking home on my own.”

Lance let out a laugh. “You think you have a choice? Nope. Not happening!” He then moved to Keith’s side, linking his arm with Keith’s. “I won’t let go until we get there.”

Keith looked down at the arm that was linked with his own, and then up at the blue eyes that were staring at him determinedly, the lights of the club reflecting in them. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Deadly.” Was all Lance gave in response.

Keith sighed and said, “Fine. If it’ll make you feel better.”

“It will.” Lance replied. “Now c’mon!”

Keith felt himself being pulled forwards by Lance and he really had no choice but to give in. “Are you always like this?” Keith asked as he fell into step beside the taller man.

“Hmm...not sure.” Lance replied. “I’ve been told that I get a lot nicer when I drink.”  

“So if you hadn’t been drinking…?”

“I would’ve left you to freeze. No question about it.”

Keith hummed in response, not really sure how he was supposed to respond to that. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to anything that Lance said. It was the complete opposite of what he expected. Could slightly intoxicated Lance be that different from sober Lance?

“So you like to party?” Keith asked in order to break the silence that had fallen between them.

“I’m twenty-three.” Lance replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “ _Of course_ I like to party.”

“I didn’t like to party when I was twenty-three.” Keith pointed out, defending his question.

“Yeah, well, you’re probably one of those people who attended every class in college and spends their weekends watching true crime documentaries.” Lance said, tone mocking.

Keith didn’t respond, not wanting to admit he did both of those things.

“Thought so.” Lance said, chuckling softly. “But that’s okay. The fast life isn’t for everyone.”

“Fast life?” Keith asked, glancing sideways at his companion.

“Yeah,” Lance said lightly. “Ya know, drinking, sex, staying out way too late and waking up in some stranger’s bed without any memory of how you got there.”

“That sounds awful.” Keith said, tone slightly cynical.

“Says you.” Lance replied, not sounding too hurt by Keith’s opinion. “But for someone like me, it’s all I got. Might as well enjoy it.”

“Someone like you? What’s that mean?” Keith asked curiously.

“Markless.” Lance said bluntly. “Soulmate free.”

Keith glanced again at Lance, this time out of shock. He had never met someone who didn’t have a soulmark. He knew that it could happen, but it was so rare that he hadn’t imagined he’d actually run into someone like that.

“I’m...sorry.” Keith said, the words sounding wrong on his tongue. Keith didn’t want a soulmate, it was true. But there was always the slight comfort in the back of his mind that he could change his mind. He could have a soulmate if he wanted. Lance didn’t get that. He had no choice. Keith couldn’t even begin to imagine the hardships Lance had gone through while growing up in a world that was built around soulmates.

“Don’t be.” Lance said, waving his free hand. “I stopped caring about that shit years ago.”

Keith supposed that was really all Lance could do about it - stop caring. The thought of it left an ache in his chest. How fucked up did the universe have to be to deny someone like Lance a soulmate? He seemed like a perfectly normal, decent guy. If Keith had to guess, he hadn’t done much wrong in his entire life.

Cruel. The universe was cruel.

“But enough about me!” Lance said cheerfully. “Tell me about you, Mr. Detective.”

“There’s not much to tell.” Keith said, not really in the mood to get into his whole messed up backstory.

“Lies.” Lance said, shooting him a glare that held no malice behind it. “How does someone your age...how old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Right! How does some twenty-five-year-old become a police detective? Most of ‘em didn’t make detective til they were like thirty.”

Keith gave a small shrug. “Just good at my job, I guess. Shiro- er, the captain says I have a good mind for solving puzzles and whatnot. He told me my talent was being wasted as a regular beat cop and so he promoted me.”

“How boring…” Lance said with a sigh. “I wanted some exciting backstory. Like as a child your mother was abducted by Somali pirates and your father had to pay a shit ton of money to get her back. She returned safe, but your family was left with basically nothing. It was from that day that you swore to never let anyone get kidnapped ever again. So you worked hard and became a police detective to fulfill your promise!”

Keith couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “I’m sorry but what? In what world would that ever happen?”

“I dunno. But it sounds more interesting than what you said.” Lance replied simply.

“Well, sorry to break it to you but that didn’t happen. Or anything like that. I just...wanted a job that would keep me busy. Law enforcement seemed to be a good fit for that.”

“Lame…” Lance said, sounding disappointed. “Well, whatever. You’re allowed to be boring.”

“Thanks…?” Keith said uncertainly.

“Welcome!” Lance said, smiling broadly.

Silence fell between them again. Keith felt weird. Talking with Lance was weird. It was like talking with someone he’d known for a long time. It was easy. There was no pressure to say the right thing, no expectations to do the right thing. It was freeing.

Keith figured it might have something to do with Lance not having a soulmate. There wasn’t any chance that he could end up being Keith’s. There was no worry that Keith’s worst nightmare would become a reality.

“This is me.” Keith said, nodding in the direction of his apartment building.

“...That was closer than I thought.” Lance muttered, gaze following in the direction of Keith’s nod. He then pulled his phone out of his coat pocket with his free hand. “Jeez...it’s already two?”

“Sorry for taking up your valuable partying time.” Keith joked, smirking at Lance.

Lance let out a breathy chuckle. “Nah, you’re good. No one worth anything was out tonight anyways. I was headed home when I ran into you. Seems like I lost track of time, though. It’s pretty late.”

The next words out of Keith’s mouth surprised him. He didn’t even remember willing them into existence. “You can spend the night if you want. I can only offer a couch, but it might be better than walking home alone in the cold.”

He saw Lance raise his eyebrows at him as they came to a stop in front of Keith’s building. “Are you serious? You barely know me. I could rob you or something.”

“You unnecessarily gave me your scarf and walked me home in ten-degree weather. If you wanted to rob me, I’d say you earned it.” Keith replied smoothly.

Lance paused for a second, seeming to contemplate his options. “Alright, sure. Why not? Let’s see what kind of dump you live in.”

Keith just rolled his eyes as he led the way towards the building.

\-----

Lance wasn’t sure what pulled him towards consciousness. Maybe it was the ray of sunshine that spread perfectly across his face. Maybe it was the uncomfortable crease that was pressing into the small of his back. Maybe it was the slight pounding in his head. Whatever the case, Lance found himself waking up far earlier than he would like to.

He groaned, a hoarse, guttural sound that amplified the bitter taste of morning breath in his mouth. His throat was dry, lips chapped. He opened his eyes slowly, eyelids feeling heavy. He blinked against the harsh light that was filtering in through a window on the adjacent wall. Lance managed to push himself up slowly, the afghan that was covering him pooling at his waist as he did. Blinking a few more times, he took in his surroundings, immediately noticing that he wasn’t in his own apartment.

The walls of the small living room he had woken up in were gray, a white trim offsetting them. Across from him there was a decent sized TV that he could see his reflection in. God, he looked like a mess, hair disheveled and face ashen. A quaint glass coffee table sat in between the TV and the couch he was sitting on, only a few coasters littering its pristine surface. The couch beneath him was black, the cushions slightly worn and faded, almost as if this wasn’t its first home. The carpeted floor was spotless, not a stain in sight.

Lance had to admit. This place was a lot nicer than his own. His living room at the moment was full of clean clothes that he had yet to even carry into his bedroom. They’d been sitting there for two weeks...he’d get to them tomorrow.

“You look like shit.”

Lance jumped slightly at the unexpected voice, head snapping over to see Keith leaning against the counter that sectioned off the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. He had a red mug in his hand and took a sip from it as he waited for Lance to say something.

Lance remembered what had happened the night before. He hadn’t been _that_ drunk. He remembered running into Keith. He remembered giving him his scarf and walking him home. He even remembered accepting his offer to spend the night. What Lance didn’t remember was the reason he had been so nice to the _guy who had insulted him_ in the first place. Stupid drunk Lance. He just _had_ to be nice to everybody.

“You!” Lance said, his voice coming out hoarsely. “Have you just been standing there watching me sleep?!”

Keith’s expression didn’t change as he took another sip of coffee, making Lance wait for his answer. “I wasn’t watching you sleep. You groaned so I came to make sure you were okay.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at the raven-haired man. “I’m fine and I _don’t_ need you worrying about me. Ever.”

“Are you back to hating me now?” Keith asked casually.

“I never stopped.” Lance replied, his tone harsh.

“Right, right. My bad.” Keith said, his tone causing Lance’s irritation to escalate. “Well, if ‘never-stopped-hating-me’ wants to take a shower, the bathroom’s down there.” Keith pointed down the hall.

Lance did want to take a shower, but he sure as hell didn’t want to do it at Keith’s apartment. “Thanks. But I’m going home.”

“Hm…I don’t think you can.” Keith said matter-of-factly.

“And why the hell not?” Lance shot back at him.

Keith nodded in Lance’s direction. “Clothes.”

Lance glanced down, a small squeal escaping his lips as he spotted the dark red college t-shirt and dark gray sweatpants. Neither were his. He absolutely did _not_ remember borrowing Keith’s clothes.

“Your's smelled like alcohol.” Keith explained. “So I put them in the washer last night. They’re drying now.”

Lance could feel himself deflate. “Will they be done soon?”

Keith shrugged. “Should be.”

Lance let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair. “Okay. I think I’ll take you up on that shower then. But only because I feel gross and not because I don’t think you’re the worst person ever, got it?”

“Got it.” Keith said, an amused smirk on his face.

Lance got up from the couch, his knees a little shaky, and started to head towards the hall Keith had pointed. “Also,” He said as he passed Keith. “Your apartment’s way too clean. It doesn’t even look like anyone lives here.”

“Thanks.” Keith said, another smirk pulling at his lips.

“That wasn’t a compliment!” Lance called back to him, not trying to hide the annoyance in his voice.

All he heard in response was a small chuckle which only served to annoy him more. He hadn’t been wrong before. Keith really did have a shit personality.

Lance made sure to close the bathroom door a little harder than necessary once he found it, hoping that Keith would notice. Flipping on the light, Lance noticed that the bathroom was as clean as the living room. Who was this guy? What twenty-five-year-old was _this_ tidy?

With an irritated huff, Lance turned to look at himself in the mirror, assessing the damage from the night before. He already knew his hair was a mess, but seeing it more up close he could sufficiently say that it was actually a total disaster. The light brown strands stuck up in every possible direction, making him look like some sorta crazed drug-fiend. His face looked sunken, his bloodshot eyes only serving to make him look worse. Christ, he looked bad...

Lance tore his eyes away from the mirror, grabbing at the hem of his borrowed shirt and pulling it up over his head. Throwing it to the ground, he let out a small snort.

' _Not so clean anymore.’_ He thought bitterly as he finished getting undressed.

As with showering in any new place, it took Lance a few moments to figure out how to get hot water. And because this was Keith’s apartment, when he did figure it out, the water turned much too hot, burning his exposed skin and causing him to jump back a little.

“Fuck this morning.” Lance muttered angrily as he adjusted the water temperature so it was manageable.

Standing under the water, Lance could feel a tension release from his shoulders that he didn’t know he had been holding in. He breathed in the steam that curled towards the ceiling around him, clearing his head. The warm water cascaded down him, washing away his irritation and soothing his otherwise hectic thoughts.

Keith’s apartment was the last place Lance had thought he’d end up last night. Thinking back, he couldn’t really remember why he had accepted the invitation in the first place. It wouldn’t have been that hard to call an Uber or catch a cab. But when Keith made the offer, it just seemed like the right thing to do. He attributed that to his inebriated mind.

The Keith last night was entirely different from the Keith he had first met. They were like two totally different people. Last night Keith seemed...bearable. He wasn’t arrogant or rude or the worst person he ever met. He had been the opposite in fact. Level-headed, calm, easy to talk to. It was bizarre. Lance couldn’t tell which one the real Keith was. And he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to figure it out. After all, it would get him one step closer to figuring out what was bothering the rookie detective.

Lance didn’t spend too long in the shower, deciding against using any of Keith’s shampoo or conditioner, not wanting to risk messing up his carefully managed haircare routine. He did, however, lather himself twice with soap to make sure that the lingering scent of club sweat had completely been dispelled. After that it was simply a matter of turning off the water, stepping out of the shower, and drying himself off.

Lance tied one of Keith’s white towels around his waist, stooping to pick up his discarded clothes off the floor and toss them into the hamper by the door. Keith _had_ been generous enough to let him stay the night, lend him clothes, and let him use his shower. The least Lance could do was pick up after himself. He might not like the guy, but he wasn’t a monster.

Exiting the bathroom, Lance could hear sounds coming from back towards the kitchen. He followed the noise, stopping to lean against the counter when he spotted Keith washing out his mug in the kitchen sink.

 _Seriously.’_ Lance thought. _‘This guy wouldn’t know how to make a mess if his life depended on it.’_

“My clothes done yet?” Lance asked, hoping to scare Keith just a little from his sudden presence.

“Yeah, probably.” Keith said, clearly not startled to Lance’s dismay. “I was just about to go-” Keith stopped short when he turned around, eyes falling on Lance. “Are you naked?”

Lance smirked at Keith. He was well aware of the fact that he fell on upper end of the attractiveness scale. Many people had told him so. So really, it was only natural that Keith should find him attractive too. “Maybe.”

“Lance.” Keith replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

Or maybe Keith was just a robot. He should at the very least be a little flustered.

“I have a towel.” Lance said with a sigh, stepping out from around the counter to show that he had some decency.

“You don’t have any shame, do you?” Keith said with a sigh, moving past Lance and heading down the hall.

“Hey, I have nothing to hide.” Lance replied, following him.

“Clearly.” Keith said in a flat voice as he opened a sliding door to reveal a washer and dryer. “Clothes are in there. Please don’t change in the middle of the hallway.”

“Sure thing.” Lance replied, shooting Keith a bright, if fake, smile.

Keith just rolled his eyes as he once again moved past Lance.

Lance knelt down in front of the dryer, opening it. A burst of warm air hit his face, the scent of laundry detergent overpowering the other smells of Keith’s apartment. Lance grabbed the small bunch of clothes out of the machine, smiling as the fabric warmed his hand. He retreated back into the bathroom to change, throwing on the warm clothes before they lost their heat. He then discarded his used towel into the hamper, not really caring if Keith separated his clothes from his towels - why do two loads of laundry when you could just do one big one and get it over with? -, and then headed back out.

He found Keith sitting in his living room. The afghan Lance had used was now folded up and hung over the side of the couch. Keith sat with his feet propped up on the table, phone in hand. His thumb moved up and down as he scrolled through something, not even looking up when Lance entered the room.

Lance knew he probably should just leave. There was no other reason to stay. He knew that Keith expected him to leave. And part of Lance wanted to leave. He wanted to go home and make himself breakfast and then start making plans for where he was going to go that night - it was Saturday after all. That’s what he wanted to do. But there was also a part of him that wanted to stay. A part that wanted to figure out the mystery that was Keith. Plus, if he stayed he could get a head start on that favor for Shiro.

“I’m hungry!” Lance declared loudly, glaring at Keith defiantly.

Keith glanced up at him, thumb pausing in its scrolling. “Then...eat something.”

Lance wasn’t sure if that was Keith giving him permission to raid his cabinets, but he sure as hell took it that way. “I will!” Lance turned on his heel and marched to the kitchen.

“I swear you’re like a three-year-old…” He heard Keith mutter.

Lance ignored him, instead moving to the half-pantry in Keith’s kitchen and opening it. He couldn’t help the dismayed gasp he let out when he saw that it was almost completely empty.

“Do you _eat?!_ ” Lance called as he moved to the fridge, yanking it open only to be met with a similar sight. “ _Ever?!_ ”

“Not here.” Came Keith's reply, his voice sounding unaffected by Lance’s remarks. “I had some pretty crazy hours when I was a beat cop, so I’d just stop somewhere to eat whenever I could.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a beat cop anymore.” Lance pointed out, looking over his shoulder to see Keith looking at him from his spot on the couch. “You’re a detective now. You have normal hours.”

Keith just shrugged. “Old habits, I guess.”

“Okay, no. No, no, no. I won’t stand for this.” Lance said, closing the fridge with a slam. “You need food. Real food.”

“I’m sure I’ll get around to it eventually.”

“No, you’ll get around to it now.” Lance said, shooting a deadly glare at the raven-haired man. “Get your shoes on. We’re going grocery shopping.”

“Lance, that’s really not-”

“This isn’t up for debate. Now get your fucking shoes on.”

“...yes, sir.”

\-----

Keith had tuned out Lance’s ramblings some fifteen minutes ago. He was basically repeating the same thing over and over again anyway. Buying groceries was cheaper than eating out. Spending a little time to make a meal would lead to healthier eating. How could he expect to catch bad guys if wasn’t keeping up his strength? They were all valid points but hearing them phrased a million different ways over the relatively short walk to the store grated on Keith’s nerves more than he’d like to admit.

He did find it a little strange that a guy who claimed to hate his guts was so worried about his diet. Actually, it was weird for anyone besides Shiro to care about his health at all. So when Lance had insisted on taking him to buy real food, Keith found that he really didn’t want to say no. If that meant that he would have to put up with following Lance around a store while being lectured at, then so be it.

“So,” Lance said as they entered the store, heading over to where they kept the shopping carts. “We’ll start with dry foods and work our way towards frozen. That way they won’t thaw before we get them back to your place. Should you be taking notes? I feel like you should be taking notes.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I know how to shop for groceries. I just haven’t done it in a while.”

“Hmm...ya know what? I’ll just write it all out for you when we’re finished. That way I know you won’t miss anything.”

Keith couldn’t help the amused smile that crossed his face. “Whatever makes you feel better, man.”

“What would make me feel better is you eating like a normal person.” Lance said, pushing the cart towards the dry food section.

“Duly noted.” Keith muttered, following after him.

The pair moved up and down the aisles, Lance pointing at different items for Keith to grab and throw in the cart. Sometimes Keith would veto an item, knowing that it would go untouched in his kitchen. This only caused one argument to break out between them. It was over milk. Keith didn’t drink milk. Ever. Why would he buy something he wasn’t going to drink? Lance had said that he should start drinking milk because calcium was important for healthy bones. In the end, Keith had won by playing the ‘it’s my money’ card. Lance had simply glared at him before moving onto the next aisle.

Now the two were waiting in line to check out, their cart full of more food than Keith thought was possible for one person to eat. Lance was leaning against the cart, face looking rather tired from their escapade. Keith himself was exhausted. Who knew that something as simple as getting groceries could take so much out of a person?

But Keith had enjoyed himself. Spending time with sober Lance was as easy as spending time with drunk Lance. The context had changed, but the feeling had remained the same. Lance was...simple. There were no expectations with him. He just took whatever was handed to him and rolled with it. He was fluid, constantly shifting, molding himself to fit whatever role was needed of him. Last night Keith had just needed someone to talk to. He hadn’t known it at the time, but somehow Lance did. And so he filled that role. Today, Keith needed someone to get him off his ass and buy groceries. With seemingly no effort, Lance became that person. Keith had to wonder if living without a soulmate had made him like that, made Lance so adaptable.

Somewhere deep down, Keith knew that it did.

“Hey, listen.” Keith said, catching Lance’s attention. “About what happened yesterday…”

“You mean when you basically told me that I don’t have a real job? And that IT wasn’t hard? And the four years I spent in college had been a complete waste of time?” Lance said, tone unreadable.

“I don’t think I said that last thing.” Keith pointed out hesitantly.

“It was implied.”

“Fair enough.” Keith replied, guilt churning in his stomach. “Well, you should know that-”

“You didn’t mean it?” Lance cut him off, tone still unreadable.

“Um, yeah.” Keith said, feeling like he was walking on eggshells.

“Then why’d you say it?” Lance asked, his tone only slightly accusatory. “You wouldn’t even tell me your name. Shiro had to tell me.”

“You talked to Shiro?”

Lance shrugged. “He saw what happened and wanted to know if I was going to file a complaint. I’m not, by the way. You’re welcome. But you never answered my question.”

Keith hesitated. He wanted to explain himself, to tell Lance that he had simply lashed out at the nearest person after suffering a week of being ignored and shunned. He wanted to explain that he had been worried that if Lance knew his name that he would refuse to help him. He wanted to tell Lance all that and more because he felt like he would understand. But at the same time, Keith barely knew Lance. What’s to stop him from talking to Shiro? And if he talked to Shiro, Keith’s life would instantly become so much worse.

In the end, Keith lied.

“Just a bad day. One of the leads I was working on went cold, some of my paperwork was misplaced so I had to redo it, and Rolo was pissed at me for breaking the mouse. Those aren’t excuses, I know that. But…” Keith trailed off, hoping that Lance didn’t see through the lie.

“Oh, I get it.” Lance said, nodding his head in understanding. “You’re one of those really quiet guys who acts like nothing bothers them, but actually has a short temper.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Keith replied, lying again. His temper wasn’t so much short, he just couldn’t help exploding after a full week of shit.

Lance sighed. “Okay, fine. Maybe you’re not the worst person ever. But I’m still not a fan.”

“Well, I’ll take what I can get.” Keith said, a small smile on his face.

Silence fell between the once more as the line moved up.

Paying for the groceries had made Keith wince. He was by no means well-off and so spending _that_ much money on food made him a little twitchy. It wouldn’t matter if he had food to eat if he didn’t have an apartment to put said food in. Lance had reminded him that it was going to be fine, that because he was only one person, it would be awhile until he had to go shopping again. Still, Keith found swiping his debit card to be a task similar to putting down a beloved pet who had simply grown to old: He really didn’t want to do it but getting it over with would just be better for everybody in the long run.

Now, he and Lance were standing just outside the store, staring down at the plethora of plastic bags that filled their shopping cart.

“We didn’t think this through.” Keith said matter-of-factly.

“We did not.” Lance agreed. “How far away is your apartment?”

“A couple of blocks.” Keith replied.

“We could call an Uber.” Lance suggested.

“It could take too long. All of the frozen stuff might go bad before we get back to my place.” Keith pointed out.

“So, what do you suggest then? We can’t just steal the cart. We could get fired for that.”

"I think...we really only have one option.”

“You don’t mean…”

“I’m afraid I do…”

\-----

Lance collapsed the moment he crossed the threshold into Keith’s apartment, the eight plastic bags that he was carrying falling to the floor around him. His arms felt like they were on fire, muscles screaming at him. His breath came out in heavy pants, sweat dotting his forehead despite the freezing temperatures outside.

Lance didn’t bother moving to let Keith in, instead making the raven-haired man step over him. It didn’t look like Keith minded. In fact, Keith didn’t look affected at all by the four-block jog they had just finished _while_ carrying armfuls of groceries. He simply stepped over Lance and then headed to the kitchen, depositing his eight bags onto the counter.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lance asked, still not moving from where he had collapsed on the floor. “How are you not dying?”

Keith looked down at him, amusement swimming in his eyes. “I work out when I can. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” Lance replied, his breathing somewhat calmer now.

“Well, if you’re going to die, can you do it out of the way of the front door?” Keith asked as he shrugged off his jacket and threw it onto the coffee table in his living room.

“Prick…” Lance muttered, reluctantly pushing himself to his knees. His arms ached with every movement as he crawled his way into Keith’s living room, not caring about the bags he left behind or the fact that he still had his coat on. Through some grunting and a few select swears, he managed to pull himself onto the black couch, turning over so he was laying on his back. He could see Keith moving about the kitchen from his position, pulling things out of the bags and putting them away.

While he watched Keith work, his thoughts returned to the conversation they had at the store. Lance wasn’t stupid. He knew that Keith had lied to him. He had worn the same look Lance used to wear when people asked if he was okay with not having a soulmate.

For a long time, Lance wasn’t okay. He’d felt like the universe had turned its back on him. He had been frustrated and hurting and really just wanted everyone to leave him alone. He’d learned quickly that the only way that was going to happen was if everyone thought he was okay. So he learned to lie. He learned how to make people believe that he was fine with not having a soulmate. And it worked. People left him alone.

Lance couldn’t remember when, but somewhere along the line his pretending to not care had turned into actually not caring. He sometimes wondered if that was a good thing…

Regardless, it wasn’t hard for him to spot Keith’s lie. He truly believed that Keith felt bad about what had happened, but for one reason or another he didn’t want to tell Lance _why_ it happened in the first place. That was frustrating, Lance could admit, but also, he understood. They had met yesterday, and it wasn’t even a good first meeting. So it really only made sense that Keith would keep some things to himself.

It seemed that if Lance wanted to figure out what was bothering Keith, he’d have to gain his trust first. And really, all that took was time.

Lance's eyes continued to follow Keith, truly studying him for the first time. Sure, he had found Keith fairly attractive when they first met, but now knowing Keith - even if only a little -, something had changed. Or maybe, Lance had simply learned to look closer.

Keith carried himself with purpose. Every movement he made had a reason behind it, even down to the way he pushed his hair out of his eyes. Everything was deliberate, bordering on cautious. It was almost like he was thinking ten steps ahead. And maybe that just came with his detective’s mind...or maybe it was something else. Lance didn’t know what, but his movements were too well-thought out for him not to be aware of it.

There was a constant hesitation in his eyes. It wasn’t fear, but rather wariness. Like something could go wrong at any moment. He always had his guard up. Even when no one was saying anything, it was easy to see that he was on edge. Waiting for something. Again, Lance didn’t know what. He only hoped that he would be able to break the barrier that kept Keith separated from others.

Well, better start somewhere.

“I’ve got a question.”

He saw Keith glance over at him briefly, only pausing momentarily in his task. “Shoot.”

“So you’re twenty-five.” Lance started.

“That’s not a question.” Keith replied, moving towards where Lance had dropped the rest of the bags.

“I’m getting there.” Lance said, haphazardly waving a hand at Keith to shut him up. “So you’re twenty-five. How does someone your age have an apartment that’s _this_ clean?”

Keith didn’t respond at first. Lance could see him bite his lip in thought as he moved the plastic bags onto the counter. Lance didn’t say anything, giving Keith the time he needed to collect his thoughts.

It wasn’t until Keith was facing away from him, depositing stuff into his fridge that he finally spoke. “Habit mostly. Some things just stick with you after so many years.”

“Habit? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t really see teenage Keith having a tidy room so to speak.”

There was another silence. Lance could see the slightly troubled look on Keith’s face whenever he turned towards him. After a few moments, he saw Keith shake his head, “You don’t want to hear my sob story. It’s pretty dull.”

Lance sat up, curiosity causing a slight itch in his brain. Shiro had mentioned something about a rough childhood. “Now I do...if you want to tell me, that is.”

Keith paused in his task, turning to face Lance. “I promise it’s not anything special.”

Lance shrugged. “Why would that matter?”

Keith seemed to hesitate a moment longer before sighing and then moving to lean against the counter. “Long story short, I was made fun of a lot as a kid. All the time. For years. I was small and weak and just...an easy target.”

“Puberty must’ve hit you like a motherfucker then.” Lance said.

He could see the corners of Keith’s mouth twitch, the smallest hint of a smile ghosting his lips. “You could say that.”

“So what does that have to do with being neat?”

“When I was at school, there wasn’t much I could do. Everywhere I went I was met with insults and made into a punching bag and...well, you get it. Everything was out of my control. But when I went home…” Keith trailed off, seeming to be looking for the right words.

“You had control.” Lance finished for him.

Keith nodded. “Yeah. I think I just needed some order, ya know? Something...predictable. I didn’t know when the next round of torture was going to happen, but I could at least come home to a place with no surprises. Nothing...bad. And so,” Keith gestured around his apartment. “Here we are.”

“Where was Shiro during all of that? Couldn’t he have stepped in somehow?” Lance asked, heart slightly breaking for Keith.

Keith shook his head, his expression turning solemn. “We were too far apart in age to ever be in the same school. By the time I was entering high school he was about to graduate college.”

Lance was at a loss for words. He certainly didn’t think that was the kind of answer he was going to get from such a harmless question. What was he supposed to do now?

“That was a long time ago, though.” Keith said, seeming to snap back to his normal self. “I don’t think about it much.”

“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” Lance said, making his voice slightly gentler.

Keith shrugged. “Believe what you want. Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

And with that the conversation was over, Keith returning to putting the groceries away. Lance dropped his gaze to his hands that were resting in his lap, thinking over what Keith had said. Lance had never been subjected to torment from his peers. Sure, there had been isolated cases of teasing, but he was sure it was nowhere near what Keith had experienced. For Lance it had all been pity, feeling sorry for the kid without a soulmark. And while that had been its own kind of torment, it was still leagues better than having everyone pitted against him.

Lance found himself clutching his pants, anger starting to boil in him. It wasn’t directed at Keith, but rather _for_ Keith. He was angry that Keith had been alone all those years. He was angry that no one had stepped in to help him. He was angry that Keith felt the need to say phrases like ‘I don’t think about it much’ and ‘it doesn’t matter anymore’. Because it _did_ matter. It mattered so much. And it made Lance angry that Keith couldn’t see that.

“I think that’s everything.” Keith said, bunching up the plastic bags. “Thanks for the help, by the way.”

“No problem.” Lance replied, trying to rein in his sudden emotions. “But just know that I’ll be super pissed if I come over and your kitchen’s empty again.”

There was an awkward pause as both of them processed what Lance had just said.

“You’re going...to come over again?” Keith asked, voice quiet.

Was he? Why did he even say that? He’d hadn’t even really meant to come over in the first place. That was drunk Lance’s decision. But right now he was about as sober as they come. And yeah, _maybe_ he didn’t hate Keith as much as he thought he did. And yeah, _maybe_ Keith was more than just some bad boy detective. But he’d still only known the guy for about a day and now he was inviting himself over? What the hell was that?

 To be fair to himself, though, a lot had happened in that one day. They had argued and then Lance had walked him home and then he had stayed the night and then he had gone grocery shopping with Keith. That was a lot to do with a person after just meeting them. In fact, Lance didn’t know a single other person he would do all that stuff with after only just meeting. And he supposed he could blame it on Shiro, but even that didn’t fit quite right. Shiro had told him to start on Monday. He could’ve waited, but he didn’t. Hell, if Lance didn’t know any better, he’d say that he...

Oh…

Oh no…

Oh no no no…

Nope! Not today! Nu-uh! No sir! He refused! He was stopping that train of thought before it had a chance to leave the station.

“I have to go!” Lance said, standing up abruptly, face turning red. “Now! Bye!”

Lance didn’t wait for Keith’s response. In fact, he didn’t even look in his direction as he bolted out of the apartment, ignoring Keith who was calling his name.

\-----

Keith was once again laying on his bed, staring up at the black marks on his hand. And although his eyes were studying the five spots, his mind was far away. He couldn’t help thinking about what had happened earlier that day. He pictured a flustered Lance, face red and movements jerky. He pictured the door to his apartment slamming as Lance bolted, the noise echoing off the drywall. Lance’s reaction had been unexpected and, quite frankly, left Keith confused.

He wasn’t sure if it was just a slip of the tongue, but Lance _definitely_ made it sound like the impromptu weekend adventure they’d been on wasn’t a one-time thing. He had practically invited himself over. Keith didn’t have a problem with that; being around Lance had proved to be equal parts entertaining and relaxing. But what Keith couldn’t understand was why Lance had become so flustered about it. He didn’t think it was that big of a deal

And if Keith was being perfectly honest with himself, the thought of spending more time with Lance was...comforting. More so than he’d probably like to admit. There was just something about the energetic, somewhat explosive twenty-three-year-old that made Keith forget about the hardships he faced.

Keith could remember the butterflies that had erupted in his stomach when Lance had so casually said he’d be willing to spend more time with Keith. It had been a surprising, but not unwelcome sensation. At least in the moment.

But now, in the quiet of his empty apartment, Keith could see how dangerous the reaction had been. He wasn’t oblivious. He knew what the implication behind the sensation was. It had happened before with other people, albeit not as fast nor as strong. Keith had always been good at shutting down things like that before they had a chance to manifest into something worse, but in that moment, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

And even thinking about it now, he wanted to let himself indulge in the possibility that his ‘feelings’ could amount to something more. He wanted to let the warmth that threatened to envelop his heart run free, but he couldn’t. He knew where it would lead. He would end up alone. Lance would come to realize that Keith didn’t really have anything to offer and he would leave. After all, Keith was certain that his soulmate couldn’t love him, so how could he expect anyone else to?

No, Keith would have to lock those feelings away before that happened. Lance was a coworker and nothing more. Come Monday, he would pretend like nothing had happened. It was safer that way. Better to cut ties now and lose nothing than cut ties later and lose everything.

\-----

The air was heavy with the smell of alcohol. It drifted around Lance, bringing promises of a soon to be forgotten night. The lights were dim in the bar, casting the room in a shadow that made even the twos look like tens. Conversations swirled around him, drifting upwards and ramming against the ceiling, threatening to bring the roof down at any moment. An unknown band played from the small stage that was situated across the room from him, their music rich with the hope of a lucky break but nothing more.

Lance’s finger traced absentmindedly along the edge of his glass, half his drink already gone. He watched the bartender move between patrons, making light conversation as he poured drinks for the bar-goers. One of Lance’s elbows rested on the bar, his head propped up in his hand. His finger tapped the side of his face to the beat of the music, a pulse that seemed to speed up and slow down at random.

On any regular night, Lance wouldn’t be sitting alone. He’d have already scouted out the people with the best potential and offered to buy them a drink. If he was lucky, the promise of good times and sated pleasures wouldn’t be too far behind. If he was unlucky, he’d end up losing a couple of bucks.

But tonight wasn’t a regular night. No, tonight Lance felt off. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew that the cause was a certain raven-haired detective. All Lance could picture was indigo eyes. All Lance could hear was the gravel of his voice. And no matter how hard he tried, Lance couldn’t get his thoughts to stray.

And so he sat alone.

He’d come to the bar to forget. He always came to the bar to forget. Sometimes it was to forget a particularly rough day at work. Sometimes it was to forget about the universe and the cruel game it played on him. Sometimes it was to forget everything. He had come to the bar tonight to forget the momentary lapse in judgement he had experienced at Keith’s apartment. And if he just so happened to forget Keith too? Well, he wouldn’t complain about that.

Lance took another sip of his drink, relishing the way the alcohol burned his throat as it went down. It felt good. Familiar. Like if he tried hard enough he would be back to his old self.

This wasn’t the first time he’d let himself slip. There had been a few times over the years were his attraction for a person had gone beyond the physical realm. It was only natural, after all. But sooner or later the feelings had faded, whether on their own or by force. Lance had a feeling that Keith was a ‘by force’ situation.

It wasn’t even like Keith had done anything special. A late-night walk and a trip to the store hardly counted as anything worth anything. And saying that for most of it Lance had despised the man, it was truly hard to understand exactly when the switch had flipped. But it had. Somewhere in the mix Lance had let his guard slip and he was hit with the beginnings of some sorta school-girl crush.

How annoying.

He supposed that come Monday he’d have to explain himself to Keith, explain why he had bolted out of there like a bat out of hell. He’d have to come up with some other excuse, knowing that telling him the truth was a bad idea. But that was a problem for future Lance. Tonight, he was drowning his feelings.

Lance threw his head back and downed the rest of his drink, a twisted desperation fueling his actions. The sooner he was drunk the better.

“Woah, slow down there, hotshot.” The bartender said from a few feet away where he was wiping down some glasses. “You know that’s for sipping, right?”

Lance gave the man a half-hearted, tired smile. “I know. Just really need to get drunk tonight.”

“That bad, huh?” The bartender asked as he moved towards Lance, taking the empty glass from in front of him.

“Let’s just say I’ve been better.” Lance replied, voice just a touch bitter.

“Well…” The bartender said, giving him a sympathetic look. “The best I can do for you is keep pouring you drinks.”

“That sounds perfect. Just what the doctor ordered.”

The bartender gave him an amused smile and then said, “But if you really want to get drunk, might I suggest something with a bit more kick?”

“Bring it on,” Lance paused, looking at the guy’s name tag. “Matt. Show me what you got.”

Matt smirked as he pulled out a glass. “Alright, but you asked for it.”

\-----

Keith emerged from his bathroom at 5am, hair pulled back and workout clothes on. He grabbed his gym bag and jacket from the counter as he passed it, heading towards the front door.

He preferred an early morning workout. He liked the feeling of being awake before the rest of the city. There was a certain peace to the streets before the sun had fully risen, a serenity that would seem almost impossible compared to the rush during the day.

Keith used his workout time to clear his head, to push aside all of his worries. He liked the ache in his muscles, the sweat rolling down the sides of his face, the burn of his lungs. He liked knowing that for a couple hours he was working for himself, instead of trying to please the people around him.

But it seemed like this morning had other things in store for him.

Keith stopped just short of the threshold, staring in disbelief at the figure who was curled up in front of his door. Why was Lance laying outside his door? He was asleep, that much Keith could tell. He also looked a little worse for wear and if Keith had to guess, he’d probably been drinking the night before.

But why was he _here?_ How drunk did the poor guy have to be to just fall asleep outside of Keith’s apartment?

Keith dropped his jacket and gym bag to the floor, already knowing that he wasn’t going to make it to the gym today. He then crouched down, looking closer at the man on the floor. The first thing he noticed was how flushed Lance’s face looked. That probably meant he’d only stopped drinking recently. Which was good, despite everything. It meant he hadn’t been there long. Aside from the flush, his face looked peaceful, his breathing slow and even. Keith knew that in a few hours’ time that would change, an inevitable hangover just around the corner. He didn’t even smell too bad which was a pleasant surprise. It meant that he hadn’t puked on himself which Keith was going to take as a win.

Keith wasn’t a monster. He knew that he couldn’t just leave Lance out here. But moving Lance anywhere was going to be a hassle. He was a grown man after all. It was probably better to try and wake him up and hope that he wasn’t too drunk to crawl inside. That was really the best Keith could hope for.

Keith reached out a hand and shook Lance’s shoulder, the fabric of his coat slightly sticky with _something_. Gross.

“Lance?” Keith’s voice was barely more than a whisper, not wanting to wake up his neighbors.

All he got in return was a soft hum, the noise coming from deep within Lance’s subconscious. He remained asleep.

Keith tried again, shaking the brunette just a little harder. “Lance, you need to wake up.”

This time Lance stirred, limbs moving so he was curled tighter into a ball. A whine could be heard coming from him, the noise small and high-pitched.

“Just for a little bit. Then you can go back to sleep.” Keith said, trying to coax the man as best he could.

He saw Lance’s eyelids flutter open, blue eyes dulled in his drunken state. They blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the world around him. He saw them land on Keith’s face, a lopsided smile forming on Lance’s face as they did.

“Keith…” Lance’s voice was shaky, his name coming out more like a sigh.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Keith replied, not a hundred percent sure how to talk to a Lance that was this drunk. “I need you to come inside.”

A pout formed on Lance’s face. “But I’m so comfy here…”

“I know.” Keith said gently. “But just think how comfy you’ll be if you’re in a bed.”

Lance’s eyes lit up. “Your bed?”

“Um, yeah.” Keith said, taken aback by Lance’s excitement. “My bed.”

“Hmm, okay then.” Lance replied, a puppy-like happiness showing on his face.

“Can you get up by yourself or do you need help?”

Lance gave him a goofy grin, uncurling himself and then pushing himself into a sitting position. “Imma independent. Don’t need no man or woman or child or...or... _grandma_ to help me.”

“Okay, then.” Keith said, standing up. “I won’t help you.”

“Good.” Lance replied, voice determined.

Watching Lance get up was both the funniest and most pitiful thing Keith had ever seen. He’d dealt with his fair share of drunk and disorderlies in his couple years as an officer. Most of those had been more annoying than anything else, especially when he ended up with a vomit-soaked uniform. But he’d never seen someone go through so much trouble just to stand. By the time Lance was finally on his feet, he had fallen over twice, almost fell back asleep, and had even forgot what he was doing a couple of times. Whenever Keith offered to help, Lance would refuse, spouting more nonsense about how he never needed anyone for anything.

 “See?” Lance said spreading his arms wide and giving Keith a wide smile. “I did it!”

“You did.” Keith said, trying not to laugh. “Now let’s get you to bed.”

“M’kay...” Lance said, swaying just a little as he took a step into Keith’s apartment.

Keith should’ve seen it coming. How he had not seen it coming was beyond him. One moment Lance was taking a step forward, and the next he was falling, having tripped over his own feet.

“Shit!” Keith said, stepping forward to catch the drunken man. Lance landed in his arms, face pressed against Keith’s shirt. Keith held him up by his arms, trying his best to support Lance’s dead weight. A sigh escaped his lips as he stared down at Lance. This really hadn’t been how he wanted his morning to go. “You’re a real mess. You know that, right?”

Lance lifted his head to stare up at Keith, his blue eyes sharp despite his drunken haze. “And you’re real pretty. So it’s even.”

Keith’s face went warm, an involuntary blush creeping onto his cheeks. He felt his heart skip in his chest before taking off, pounding against his ribs. There was no lie in Lance’s eyes. There was no teasing, no punchline waiting. He had meant it.

Keith tore his eyes away from Lance, trying to stop his emotions before they got away from him. “L-Let’s just...get you to bed, okay?”

“Mhm…” Lance said, pushing himself off Keith.

It was slow going, the trip down the hall and into Keith’s room. Lance continued to insist that he didn’t need help, stumbling his way down the hall, half leaning against the wall as he went. But finally, _finally,_ they made it into Keith’s room. He only had time to coax Lance out of his coat before the man was falling into Keith’s bed, curling up into the same position he had been in outside of Keith’s apartment, and then falling asleep.

Keith didn’t know what to do. He supposed he could go back to his original plan and head to the gym; Lance probably wouldn’t be up for hours anyway. But he really didn’t want to leave Lance alone in his apartment. That being said, it was five thirty in the morning. What could he do at five thirty in the morning? The answer was not much.

Keith glanced down at the coat in his hands, the faint smell of alcohol wafting up towards him. Well, he supposed he could start with washing Lance’s coat. At this rate, he was going to have to start charging him for using all of his detergent.

With a sigh, Keith left the room, closing the door behind him.

\-----

For a second day in a row, Lance woke up with a pounding in his head. This time, though, it was much worse. The bright side was that he was pretty sure he hadn’t slept on a couch. So, yay for that. He could feel a soft mattress beneath him, caving in slightly with his weight. His head rested on a pillow that smelled of spring air and spice. An odd mixture, but not unpleasant.

His joints were stiff, bones cracking as he stretched himself out. Opening his eyes was a mistake. The pounding only got worse, a pinch of dizziness accompanying it. His stomach twisted, nausea eating away at his insides. He swallowed it down, not wanting to puke while still in bed.

Speaking of which, it wasn’t his own. Lance could see that once the room had stopped spinning. He didn’t recognize the room which didn’t surprise him. He’d been in plenty of stranger’s beds before. What concerned him was how he got there.

The last thing he remembered was the bartender - Matt was his name - cutting him off, telling him that he was drunk enough for one night. After that he vaguely recalled a cab, but the rest was all blurry. So, whose bed was he in? And why was he still fully dressed? That didn’t seem right.

He supposed it didn’t matter too much. If he was in some random person’s bed, it meant that his plan had worked. He’d drowned out his feelings for that stupid Keith. Now, he could go back to mildly disliking him. Come Monday, all would be right with the world once more. A happy ending to an otherwise weird weekend.

But first, Lance needed to go home and nurse the hangover that was still pounding in his head. Everything else could come after that.

Moving was hard, Lance discovered. Every slight shift sent new possibilities of him losing whatever food was in his stomach. It felt like years before he had gotten out of the bed and made it to the door.

Turning the handle and opening it, he was met with bright lights, a sudden contrast to how dark the room had been. His head seared in pain, causing him to slump against the wall and squeeze his eyes shut. Today was going to be awful. He just knew it.

“Oh, you’re finally up. How’s the head?”

Lance could feel his blood run cold at the familiar voice. He didn’t want to believe. It must’ve been a nightmare. Yeah, that’s it. He was just dreaming and any minute now he would wake up.

“Do me a favor and pinch me. I need to wake up.” Lance mumbled, not opening his eyes.

“Sorry to break it to you, but you’re already awake.” Came the reply.

“No…” Lance said, sliding down the wall until he was seated on the floor.

He heard soft footsteps approach him. He opened his eyes to see raven hair and indigo eyes crouching down in front of him. “Aspirin?”

Lance looked down to see a hand extended towards him, two white pills situated on top of black leather. “Did you poison it?” Lance asked, only half joking.

“Nope.” Keith replied, voice light. “At least not this time.”

Lance snorted as he took the pills from Keith’s hand, popping them into his mouth and swallowing. He shuddered slightly at the bitter taste, but otherwise didn’t complain. It was better than no aspirin at all.

“How did I get here?” Lance asked, not really sure that he wanted to know.

“Don’t know.” Keith replied with a small shrug. “Just found you sleeping in front of my door.”

Lance groaned as he leaned his head back against the wall. That was so much worse than he’d thought it would be. It was one thing to run into Keith somewhere and then come back to his apartment. But to come to his apartment uninvited and then _fall asleep outside his door?_ That was humiliating. He probably looked crazy or desperate or like he was one bad night away from ending up in a rehab program.

“Please tell me I didn’t do anything else embarrassing…” Lance mumbled, dragging a hand down his face.

“No, nothing embarrassing.” Keith replied a little too quickly, his eyes looking anywhere but at Lance.

“Liar.”

“Nothing you wanna hear about.” Keith amended.

“...fair enough.” Lance said.

There was a moment of silence between the two before Lance spoke again.

“Okay, I’m gonna be super real with you right now. If I move from this spot, there’s a good chance your apartment’s gonna smell like puke for the next week.”

“If you throw up right here you’ll regret it.” Keith said, his tone somewhat dark.

“It’s happening whether you like it or not.” Lance replied, feeling the nausea start to churn in his stomach once more. “So if I were you, I’d go get something for me to throw up into. And I’d do it fast.”

Keith gave him an annoyed glare but didn’t say anything as he stood up and retreated back down the hall and into the kitchen. Lance closed his eyes, doing his best to combat the bile that was rising in his throat. He really didn’t want to throw up in front of Keith, but at this point he knew he had no choice. He supposed it was karma for getting completely wasted the night before. Great…

He heard Keith return, setting down a small trash can next to Lance. “Throw up anywhere except for in this and I will leave you outside the next time you wind up drunk at my door.” Keith’s tone was serious, words slightly clipped.

Lance wanted to say there wasn’t going to be a next time. He wanted to say that after today he was planning on never coming back to Keith’s apartment. But when Lance opened his mouth, he could feel the sudden wrench of his gut. Soon, he was leaning over the trash can, emptying his stomach.

“I’m never...drinking...again…” Lance said as he slumped back against the wall. There was a bitter aftertaste in his mouth and a vile smell hung in the air.

“Yeah, I find that hard to believe.” Keith replied, his voice carrying a tone of disgust.

“I mean it.” Lance said, no fire behind his words. “I’m done. Never again.”

“What about the fast life?” Keith asked, sounding amused.

“I’m too old for the fast life.” Lance said, shaking his head as much as he dared.

“You’re twenty-three.”

“I’m old!” Lance insisted, wincing at his raised voice. “I mean just look at me. I went out drinking and ended up here...I didn’t even get laid. That’s not the fast life if I’ve ever seen it.”

“Okay...so what? You gonna start being boring like me?”

Lance didn’t answer at first, trying to decide if he wanted to go down that road. It was clear to him that he had not succeeded in drowning his feelings. Why else would he end up sleeping outside Keith’s apartment? And he really wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself. He could tell by his accelerated heart and sweaty hands that he did, in fact, have some sorta feelings for Keith. But only baby ones. Feelings that he had to squint to see.

So being boring like Keith? Spending a lazy Sunday just lounging around? Having a quiet night in after a long day of work? Yeah, okay, that didn’t sound so bad. Doing those things with Keith...he could admit that sounded even better.

But it was a slippery slope. He knew what the end result would be. It would end with Keith finding his soulmate and leaving. Lance didn’t get a happy ending. He didn’t get someone to stick with him until they grew old and died...but did that mean that he didn’t deserve some momentary happiness no matter how fleeting it might be? Before meeting Keith, he would’ve said it wasn’t worth the future pain it would bring. But now? Now Lance wasn’t so sure.

“I need you to teach me how to be boring.” Lance finally said, spitting out the words while he still had the courage.

He saw a half-smile break out on Keith’s face. “Being boring isn’t something you learn. It’s just something you do.”

“Okay then…” Lance said in thought. “Let’s do something boring today.”

“You and me?” Keith asked, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure?”

Lance had never been more unsure about anything in his life. “Absolutely. I have a hangover anyway. It might be healthy to do something boring.”

“Do you have anything in mind?” Keith asked.

Lance thought for a minute before an idea popped into his head. “I wanna see what your version of boring is. What was it I said the other day? ‘You probably sit at home and watch true crime documentaries’? Something like that?”

“That _is_ what you said...as an insult.” Keith replied.

“Yeah, but you didn’t deny it.” Lance said, shooting Keith a smirk. “So let’s do that.”

“So let me see if I got this straight...because you didn’t get laid, you want to hang out with me all day and watch documentaries?”

“Well when you say it like that it sounds crazy, but yeah. That’s the gist of it.” Lance replied.

Keith was silent for a moment, seeming to contemplate something before saying. “Alright, fine. But first you need to take a shower...and brush your teeth. I’m not doing anything with you until you stop looking like you crawled out of a swamp.”

Lance looked down at himself, noticing how wrinkled and stained his shirt was. He was sure the rest of him didn’t look much better. “Yeah, that’s fair...would it be okay if I borrowed some clothes again?”

Keith sighed, shaking his head a little. “Seriously. What am I going to do with you?”

Lance only shrugged in response, the budding feelings in his chest growing that much more.

\-----

Keith had lost interest in the TV some time ago, his focus solely fixated on the sleeping brunette whose head rested in his lap. It had been a shock when Lance had plopped down on the couch next to Keith after his shower and simply made himself comfortable, grabbing one of the pillows and laying it across Keith’s legs. He then proceeded to curl up next to Keith, laying his head on said pillow. And there he had stayed, never saying a word about it.

Keith could’ve told him to move. Keith _should’ve_ told him to move. In fact, Keith should’ve said no to spending time with Lance, period. But he hadn’t. A part of him didn’t want to. He liked being around Lance. He wanted to spend time with him. Even when the younger man was completely wasted, Keith found that there was some part of him that was drawn to him.

Lance was the warmth that was spreading through his chest, healing over the scars that had been with him for so long. He didn’t want to push Lance away. He didn’t want to cut ties. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Keith was thinking that it might be possible for someone to care for him, to _really_ care for him.

And that was scary. What if he was wrong? What if Lance left? What if Lance got bored with him? Would Keith be able to take it? He wasn’t sure. Maybe indulging was a bad idea. Maybe he’d be left with nothing. Maybe he’d look back on this night and call himself stupid for ever allowing himself to believe.

But right now? In this moment? As Keith stared down at the sleeping face of Lance, the only thing he wanted was to stay like this. To be trapped in time forever. To be watching over the only person that Keith had ever really cared for.

As the hours moved past, midnight creeping up far faster than it should have, Keith didn’t look at his soulmark. He didn’t even think about it. He couldn’t hear it mocking him from beneath his glove. He didn’t feel its heavy presence pulling him down. It was as if it had simply disappeared.

\-----

Keith left his apartment early the next day in a better mood than he was used to on a Monday morning. He had woken Lance up just after midnight, knowing that both of them had to be at work the next day. Lance had been reluctant to leave, his tired state making him slightly testier than his normal self. But he eventually agreed that it would be easier for him to sleep at his own place and had left, promising to return the t-shirt and sweatpants that he had borrowed.

It was snowing again, white flakes drifting down from the grey sky and melting on the city sidewalks. The wind was gentler today, only nipping at Keith’s exposed skin instead of its usual biting. There was a certain liveliness to the city, the winter misery lifted even if only for the day. The people he passed didn’t look as tired as he had previously seen. There was a pep in the foot traffic, not in a hurry but rather enjoying the winter atmosphere.

Even arriving at work, Keith could tell that something was in the air. Maybe the spirit of Christmas had finally arrived, the holiday only being a few short weeks away. Maybe the precinct had always been like this and he had never noticed, never having a reason to. Whatever the case, Keith would enjoy it while he could.

Arriving on the fourth floor, Keith made his way across the bullpen. He could still feel some glares thrown his way, could still hear his name whispered as he passed, but he found that they bounced off him instead of driving a wedge into his back. And he had a feeling that had something to do with the brunette that was seated at his desk, fiddling with the wires behind his computer.

“A little early yet to be working, dontcha think?” Keith asked as he approached, catching Lance’s attention.

“Yeah, well, I got here early and had some time to kill. Thought the least I could do was bring you a new mouse after you had to deal with drunk me...twice.” Lance replied, turning back to the monitor and plugging in the new mouse.

“It’ll be nice being able to use the computer again.” Keith said as he shrugged off his jacket. “And...sorry about the old one…”

Lance spun Keith’s chair around so he was facing him. “How did that happen anyway? Those little guys are sturdy.”

Keith looked away from him, slightly embarrassed. “I uh...just got angry.” It wasn’t a lie. That was exactly what happened. He got angry because of the shit he had to put up with and had taken it out on the mouse.

“Uh-huh.” Lance said, clearly not accepting that as the full answer. “And what could possibly make you so angry that you kill an innocent creature like that?”

“...You know it’s not alive right? I didn’t kill anything.” Keith asked, somewhat sarcastically.

Lance let out a fake gasp, clutching his chest. “How _dare_ you! Just because it’s not alive doesn’t mean it doesn’t have feelings!”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it means.” Keith replied, give Lance a ‘done’ look.

“Well, tell that to its family!” Lance shot at him, no malice behind his words.

“I swear you’re like six years old.” Keith said, rolling his eyes,

Lance just shrugged, an amused smile on his face. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Keith was suddenly very aware of the people around him. He knew he and Lance were being studied. Hell, they probably expected another argument to break out. There were too many ears here. They’d definitely be overheard.

“Hey,” Keith said, hoping that Lance would get the memo. “I’d really like to meet your team and...ya know, apologize to them…? For what I said the other day…?”

Lance’s expression became confused before it seemed to click in his brain. “Oh. _Oh._ Yeah, sure. They should be here by now...let’s go.”

Lance stood up from Keith’s chair, leading the way across the bullpen and to the hallway he had disappeared down on Friday. Reaching the end, Lance opened the door and entered the room, Keith just behind him.

There were two other people in the office who Keith assumed were the other members of the IT department. Both looked up as they entered the room, the smallest of the group immediately giving Keith a smirk.

“You must be the Keith I’ve heard all about.” The short one said, adjusting their glasses. “Heard you said IT wasn’t a real job.”

Keith felt his face grow a little red. “I...um...I didn’t…”

“Leave him alone, Pidge.” Lance said, sitting down at one of the desks which Keith assumed was his. “He apologized.”

Pidge’s face fell, disappointment evident in their eyes. “That’s no fun...now I have to do the right thing…”

“The right thing?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Yeah, do yourself a favor and don’t use your computer for the next...let’s say two hours.” Pidge replied.

“Why?”

“Unless you want the whole floor to think you’re into some pretty kinky shit, stay off your computer.” Pidge replied, a proud smirk on their face.

“What did I say about using your hacking abilities to get revenge?” The other guy in the room said, chiding Pidge.

“Hunk…” Pidge replied, shooting him an innocent smile. “It wasn't revenge. I was _avenging_ Lance. There’s a big difference.”

“Good lord…” Hunk sighed. “Why do I even try?”

“But no worries.” Pidge said, gaze shifting back to Keith. “I’ll have your computer back to normal in no time. Should take me five minutes.”

“I thought you said two hours.”

“Yeah, I’ll get to it in two hours. Consider it interest.” Pidge gave him an evil smile.

“Guys,”  Lance cut in, looking between his two friends. “Mind if we borrow the room for a little bit?”

“You’re kicking us out?” Pidge asked, a slight whine to their voice.

“No, I’m asking you nicely.” Lance said, giving them a pointed look.

“C’mon, Pidge.” Hunk said standing up with a friendly smile on his face. “Let’s go get some coffee from that place down the street. I’m tired of drinking crappy precinct coffee.”

Pidge let out a dramatic sigh, closing their laptop and standing up. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

“Sure, sure.” Hunk said as the two left the room, closing the door behind them.

“Okay,” Lance said once the door was closed and their voices had faded. “Spill.”

Keith ran a nervous hand through his hair, sucking in a deep breath as he searched for the right words. He hadn’t told anyone about what was going on partially because he didn’t want it to get back to Shiro and partially because he didn’t think anyone else would understand. It had been his problem. He should be the one to deal with it. But Lance seemed safe. Keith knew that if he asked, Lance would keep it a secret.

“So I’m new.” Keith started, thinking that it was just better to get it over with. “In the department, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” Lance said, nodding.

“Actually, I’m new to this precinct. I used to work in the eight-seven when I was an officer.”

“Okay, and…?”

“And so no one here knows me besides Shiro.” Keith said. “I’m just some random guy Shiro brought in out of nowhere.”

“But you’re not random. You’re his brother.” Lance pointed out.

“Yes! Exactly! Imagine how’d you feel if you worked really hard to become a detective. You spent years as a beat cop and then had to put in for the promotion, hoping that a spot would open up. And then here I come, some brother to the captain, only twenty-five years old, being promoted to a detective without even trying.”

“...That would piss me off.” Lance admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

“Yeah, you and everyone else in the building.” Keith said, running another hand through his hair. “So I spent the last week being hated by basically everyone. They won’t tell me where stuff is or work with me on anything or...you get it. And the thing is, I don’t even blame them. Honestly, I get it.”

“So the mouse?” Lance asked.

Keith let out a sigh. “The mouse was a result of pent up frustration after days of being treated like shit.”

“And the argument we had?”

“Also the result of frustration...with some added fear that you wouldn’t give me the new mouse if you knew who I was.”

Lance was silent for a moment, leaning back in his chair. He looked like he was contemplating something, but at to what, Keith had no idea. Finally, he said, “Ya know, Shiro’s been worried about you.”

“Yeah, what’s new?” Keith replied with a snort.

“Maybe you should tell him what’s going on…” Lance suggested hesitantly.

“Are you insane? How would that solve anything? People would just hate me more if they saw me go crying to Shiro.”

“Okay, yeah. That was a bad suggestion.” Lance said, looking guilty. “But you gotta do something. You can’t even do your job at this rate.”

Keith shook his head. “What can I do except prove myself?”

“How can you prove yourself if no one will give you a chance?” Lance countered.

“I don’t know…” Keith replied, dropping his voice low. “But I’ll figure it out.”

“Keith…” Lance said, giving him a sympathetic look.

Keith didn’t meet Lance’s gaze, not sure that he could withstand the force of ocean blue eyes. Instead he pulled out his phone to check the time, looking for an excuse to end the conversation. “It’s almost time for the morning debriefing. I gotta go...see ya later.”

Keith didn’t wait for a response as he left the tiny office, the weight of the world settling on his shoulders once more.

\-----

Lance waited a couple minutes, making sure the debriefing was in full swing before he left the IT office. He glanced around as he walked, making sure that Keith was nowhere in sight. He was on a mission that he rather Keith didn’t know about.

The door to Shiro’s office was open. Through the large windows that looked out into the bullpen Lance could see the captain at his desk, working on whatever it was that captains worked on. Lance rapped his knuckle against the door as he entered, causing Shiro to look up.

“Lance.” Shiro said by way of a greeting.

“Shiro.” Lance replied, moving further into the office. “We need to talk about Keith.”

Shiro’s expression became concerned. “Please tell me he didn’t insult _another_ department.”

“Oh, no.” Lance said, holding a hand up as if to stop Shiro’s train of thought. “Nothing like that. I actually wanted to talk about that favor you asked of me.”

“Ah, yes. You’re supposed to start working on that today.” Shiro said, leaning back in his chair.

“Truth be told, I kinda already finished it.” Lance admitted, smiling sheepishly.

Lance wasn’t surprised by the shocked expression that crossed Shiro’s face. “That fast? How? It usually takes me weeks to get him to open up and even then it’s hard to tell if he’s lying.”

“Well, I happened to run into him over the weekend and things kinda sorta...went from there.” Lance said.

“Still…” Shiro said, looking impressed. “So what’s bothering him?”

“Here’s the thing…” Lance said slowly, making sure he phrased his next sentences in the best way possible. “I can’t tell you. I think it would just make things worse if you knew.”

Shiro gave Lance a confused look. “Why?”

Lance shook his head. “I can’t tell you that either. Look, I know you really have no reason to trust me, but at least trust that Keith has a good reason to keep this to himself.”

Shiro was silent for a moment, seeming to be studying Lance. It wasn’t hard to see that he was bothered by the what Lance had said. He looked...troubled. Like his role as an older brother and as a captain were clashing.

Finally, he said, “Can you promise me that he’ll be okay?”

“I’m gonna make sure of it.” Lance said with a nod, a plan already forming in his head.

“Then I’ll drop the matter.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lance replied, a wave of relief washing over him. “I do have another question though...about Keith.”

“Oh?”

“Um...why did you decide to promote him? I mean, all things considered he’s a little young to be a detective.”

“He was the best for the job.” Shiro said simply. It sounded like a rehearsed answer.

“With all due respect, I know a lot of officers in this precinct who would make great detectives.” Lance said, only slightly worried that he was going to piss Shiro off.

“Hmm...true.” Shiro said and then nodded back towards the door.

Lance got the message, turning and closing the door quietly so as not to attract too much attention.

Shiro sat forward in his chair with a sigh, resting his elbows on his desk. “I’ve said before that Keith had a tough time as a kid.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, he told me all about it.”

“Then you can probably tell that it still bothers him.”

Lance nodded again. He had noticed. It was in the small things. His clean apartment, his preference for being alone, his unwillingness to accept help.

“Keith has spent a good portion of his life thinking he’s not good enough. That he’s...broken somehow. And no matter how many times I told him it wasn’t true, it never got through.” Shiro paused, looking frustrated. “So when I heard that he’d been excelling over at the eight-seven, I thought this might be my chance to _show_ him his worth rather than just tell him. So I promoted him. Does that make me a bad captain?” Shiro gave a small shrug. “I guess. But I never would’ve given him the job if I didn’t think he could do it.”

“I don’t think that makes you a bad captain.” Lance said in understanding. “I think it just means you care about your brother.”

Shiro let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right...although sometimes I think he wishes I would just butt out.”

Lance gave Shiro a small smile. “Well, you’d have to ask him about that.”

That earned another laugh from Shiro.

“Well, I should really get back to work.” Lance said, backing towards the door. “Thanks for seeing me.”

“My door’s always open, Lance.” Shiro said, giving him a nod.

Lance nodded back and then left Shiro’s office, heading back towards his own. On the way, his mind went over the bizarre situation he had found himself caught in. Shiro had promoted Keith to show him his worth vis-à-vis doing a good job as a detective, but Keith couldn’t do that because everyone hated him because Shiro had promoted him. What kind of backwards irony was that? What the hell had he walked into? And since when did he decide that he was going to be the one to fix it?

Lance knew the answer to that last question. It was the moment he decided to roll with his feelings for Keith. He knew he still had a lot to work out in that department, but a good place to start was making his life easier at work if he could. And even if...no...no, no, no...even _when_ things went south for Lance, at least he could say that he helped. That was really all he could do.

Lance entered the IT office again, noticing that Hunk and Pidge had returned from their impromptu coffee run.

“Where have you been?” Pidge asked.

“Talking to the captain.” Lance replied, taking a seat at his desk. “I need to ask you guys a favor. I want to pull Keith’s old record from the eight-seven.”

“We don’t have access to the eight-seven.” Hunk pointed out. “We barely have access here. And why do you want his record anyway?”

“I just want to familiarize myself with the kind of work he’s done. Shiro said he excelled as a beat cop.”

“Shiro?” Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, the captain...I guess were on a first name basis or something...I dunno…” Lance replied, cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

“Putting that aside for the moment,” Hunk said. “Why does it matter if Keith excelled at his old precinct?”

“Because right now he’s looking for a way to prove himself.” Lance explained. “But no one will give him a chance. So, if Hunk and I start talking him up - mentioning his old work and whatnot - it might help him to get his foot in the door.  I’m in good with the other detectives and nobody hates Hunk. It could work.”

“You realize that plan could massively backfire and make things worse, right?” Pidge asked seriously.

Lance nodded. He’d thought of that already. “It’s the best I got.”

“Wait, hold on.” Hunk said, holding up his hands. “Pidge told me you hated this guy.”

“I did…” Lance said, dropping his gaze to the desk in front of him. “And now I don’t…”

“Christ, Lance.” Pidge said, almost disapprovingly. “You’ll go to any lengths to get into someone’s pants…”

“It’s not like that!” Lance retorted, gaze snapping up to glare at his small friend, voice much harsher than he intended.

There was a silence in the room, both Hunk and Pidge looking at him like he’d grown an extra head.

“S-Sorry…” Lance muttered, looking away.

“Oh my god…” Pidge whispered, sounding more surprised than Lance had ever heard. “You like him...like, _like him_ like him…”

“What?” Lance said quickly, face flushing. “No! T-That’s just...ridiculous…”

“Oh, Lance…” Hunk said, clearly not believing him. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened ‘cause I don’t like him!” Lance stuttered, looking anywhere but at his two friends.

“Deny it all you want, but you’ve got a crush.” Pidge said, sounding smug.

“Okay, _fine._ Maybe I have the tiniest of crushes.” Lance said with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, yeah sure. It’s tiny.” Pidge said sarcastically.

“What are you gonna do?” Hunk asked, voice soft.

Lance’s throat tightened, not needing Hunk to elaborate on the question. It had been the same question Lance had been avoiding. And in truth, he didn’t know. He had no idea what he was going to do. He knew that no matter how things played out, he would be forgotten. If he acted upon his feelings, things might be good for a while. But someday Keith would meet his soulmate. Someday Keith would find his other half...and it wouldn’t be Lance. And that would hurt. More than Lance wanted to admit. But if he crushed his feelings, buried them down deep where no one could see them, he felt like that might hurt even more. There was a part of Lance that was so drawn to Keith, a part of him that wanted to hold on tight to the quiet, raven-haired detective and never let go. And the thought of locking that part away? Of losing that small spark that lit up the world when Keith was around? Well, that seemed unbearable.

So yeah, Lance was screwed either way. Thanks universe.

“I dunno…” Lance said quietly. “I’m not like you guys. I don’t get a happy ending…” His gaze shifted to the black handprint that wrapped itself around Hunk’s wrist and then to Pidge’s left hand where their palm was covered entirely in black. “I’ve known that for a long time. I’m not someone’s perfect other half. I’m not…” Lance trailed off, trying to squash the rising tide of emotion. “Even if something did happen, he’d meet his soulmate someday and he’d leave. How can I compete with something like that?”

“Are you sure he has a soulmate? Maybe he’s markless just like you.” Pidge said.

Pretty sure.” Lance replied, a heaviness settling in his chest. “I haven’t seen his soulmark or anything, but when I mentioned that I didn’t have a one, he felt sorry for me. That’s a classic person-with-a-soulmate move.”

“Has he ever talked about his soulmate?” Hunk asked.

Lance shook his head. “No, but I didn’t ask either.”

“Then maybe you should.” Hunk said, giving Lance a supportive smile. “Just because the universe didn’t pair you up with someone, doesn’t mean you have to be alone.”

“Sounds easy when you put it like that.” Lance said, eyes dropping to his desk once more. “But in reality, no one would settle for second best. And that’s what I am. Second best…”

Lance could feel something tearing at his heart, ripping it to pieces as he vocalized the one thought that he had been burying for years. And it was true. He was only second best. There was something about him that was wrong. Something that was missing, something that would bridge the gap between himself and the rest of the world. Somewhere along the line he had messed up and been deemed undeserving. And although Lance said that he didn’t mind and that he didn’t want a soulmate, it was hard to accept that he would always be the one left behind.

His downward spiral of thoughts was broken by a plushie hitting him in the head, the impact just hard enough for Lance to notice. Lance looked up at Pidge who was giving him a displeased look.

“What?”

“Stop it.” They said, voice firm. “Right now.”

“Pidge-”

“Your worth isn’t determined by some stupid mark.” Hunk cut in, expression mirroring Pidge’s.

Lance felt a spark of irritation at his large friend. “You just don’t-”

“Understand? Of course we don’t.” Hunk said, words slightly clipped. “We could never understand what you’re going through, and we wouldn’t pretend to. But what kind of people would that make us if we let you believe that you’re second rate when it’s simply _not true_?”

“But-”

“It’s not true, Lance.” It was Pidge who cut him off this time. “There’s so much more to life than soulmates.”

“Yeah.” Hunk agreed. “And it’s okay if you can’t see that right now. We’ll just have to keep reminding you.”

“I’ve got lots more plushies I can throw at you.” Pidge added.

Lance was speechless for a moment, a lump forming in his throat. What had he done to deserve friends like Hunk and Pidge in his life. He didn’t know, but he was grateful nonetheless. “Thanks, guys.”

“We got your back.” Hunk said, giving him a thumbs up.

“...But getting back to the whole helping Keith thing.” Pidge said. “I think I can help you access his record. But! I’m not taking the blame if this goes south, got it?”

Lance nodded enthusiastically. “Got it.”

“Alright. Give me a couple of hours.” Pidge said darkly, adjusting their glasses and then cracking their fingers. “I’m going in.”

Lance and Hunk exchanges glances, both slightly scared of whatever switch had been flipped in their small friend.

\-----

Keith was at his desk looking over one of the many casefiles he’d been assigned that morning. It wasn’t anything major. Just a couple of shoplifters that seem to be bothering a lot of the major department stores in their jurisdiction. Child’s play. Keith expected to have them in custody by the end of the day.

All in all, the day had progressed about as he’d expected. People still ignored him. People still talked about him behind his back. People still hated him for one reason or another. At this point, Keith had moved past just ignoring it and was quickly approaching the ‘hate them all back’ stage of his frustration. He didn’t want to do that, though. He was pretty sure the last thing he wanted was to piss them off even more.

It was approaching his lunch hour. Soon Keith would make the short walk back to his apartment to eat, knowing that if Lance caught him buying lunch from the food trucks outside he’d never hear the end of it. Plus, he had spent all that money on food. He’d really hate for any of it to go to waste.

“Lunch plans?”

Keith looked up to see Lance standing by his desk. He hadn’t even noticed him approach. Regardless, Keith felt his heart start to beat just a little bit harder.

“Was just gonna make something at home.” Keith replied, hoping that his voice didn’t mirror the franticness in his chest.

“Can I...join you?” Lance asked, voice slightly shaky. He looked more nervous than usual. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, he shifted his weight back and forth, and he wouldn’t bring his gaze up to meet Keith’s.

“Yeah, sure.” Keith replied with a nod, not about to say no to spending time with Lance. He had found that he had almost grown addicted to Lance’s presence. He’d grown addicted to the way Lance seemed to fill in the empty spaces of Keith’s life. Over the past few days Lance had been there whenever Keith would have normally been alone. He fit perfectly into Keith’s life, almost as if he had belonged there all along.

Keith closed the file he’d been working on and stood up, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and putting it on. Lance didn’t look at him once, instead staring at the floor.

“Something on your mind?” Keith asked, growing a little worried at Lance’s odd behavior.

Lance glanced up at him for the first time, eyes stormy. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it, expression becoming conflicted.

Keith waited, letting him get his thoughts in order.

“I...just…” Lance paused again, shaking his head slightly. “It’s not important.”

“And you expect me to believe that?” Keith asked.

“No,” Lance said with a sigh. “But I’m hoping you’ll drop it anyway.”

“Okay.” Keith said, not hesitating.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll drop it.” Keith elaborated.

“Seriously? Just because I asked you to?”

“No.” Keith replied. “Because you look like someone just stole all your lunch money and now have to awkwardly ask a friend for some of theirs...instead in this case, you’re asking me to make you lunch.”

Lance’s face went blank, all signs of nervousness gone in an instant. He gave Keith a dead look, lips pressing into a tight line. His eyes lit up in irritation, a fire dancing behind them. This was the Lance Keith knew.

“You think you’re real fucking funny, don’t you?” Lance said, voice low and dangerous.

“Hmm...yeah, I do.” Keith said, smirking.

“I see, I see…” Lance replied, his irritation only growing. “Well in that case, you can make me lunch for the rest of the week. It’s the least you can do after dragging me along with you to the store.”

“Uh, what?” Keith said, raising an eyebrow. “You dragged me to the store.”

Lance’s glare darkened. “Yeah, well...whatever. You still owe me. Let’s go.”

And with that Lance stormed past him, making his way across the bullpen. Keith followed behind him, a small smile forming on his face. Even though he was the one stuck making Lance lunch for the week, he felt like he had won that one. Anytime he could make Lance say ‘whatever’ and storm off was a victory.

Lance didn’t speak one word to him on the walk to his apartment. And while at first Keith thought it was because Lance was still irritated, a quick glance towards the brunette showed that his nervousness had returned. He was biting at his bottom lip, gaze trained on the sidewalk in front of him. He looked lost in thought, whatever internal conflict he was having taking up all of his attention.

Keith would be lying if he said that didn’t worry him. Lance, as far as he’d seen, was confident about most things. He knew who he was, what he was good at, and what he liked. And if he didn’t agree with something, he’d have no qualms saying so. Not once had he seen Lance look so troubled. And that bothered Keith.

Still, he said he’d drop it and he would. Lance would tell him if he wanted to. And if he didn’t? Well, Keith had never really been one to pry.

Opening the door to his apartment, Keith stepped inside and flipped on the lights. Lance followed in behind him, taking off his coat, scarf, and gloves and hanging them over the side of the couch.

“So whatcha feel like eating?” Keith asked, taking off his own jacket.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Lance replied, either not hearing Keith’s question or ignoring it.

“Um, sure.” Keith said, stopping in his tracks on his way to the kitchen.

“Why haven’t-...no…” Lance paused for moment, a struggle present on his face. “You do have-” He stopped again, shaking his head. “Ugh! Why is this so hard?”

“Lance, what are you talking about?” Keith asked, not trying to hide his confusion.

“You have a soulmark!” Lance blurted in exasperation, his eyes wild.

Keith felt his right hand tighten into a fist, fingers digging into the leather of his glove. His throat tightened a little, anxiety starting to churn in his stomach.

“You do, don’t you?” Lance asked, much quieter than before.

Keith only nodded in response, not sure that he could force his voice to work. He could see some unnamed emotion fill Lance’s eyes, shrouding the bright blue in grey.

“Can I...can I see it?” Lance asked hesitantly, his voice sounding like he wanted Keith to say no.

Keith swallowed, searching for his voice. “Why?”

Lance didn’t look away from Keith as he answered, gaze serious. “It’s just...I’ve never seen it and you don’t talk about it and...I got curious.”

Somewhere in the back of Keith’s mind he knew this conversation was bound to happen. He knew that at some point Lance was going to want to see his soulmark, that he was going to want to talk about Keith’s soulmate. It was only natural, after all.

Keith looked down at his right hand. It had been a long time since he’d let anyone see his soulmark. It had become something private, something that he only looked at in the cover of darkness. Letting someone else see it was like sharing some deep dark secret, exposing part of himself that he would rather be kept hidden.

But as Keith’s gaze rose to meet Lance’s, he found a wave of calm wash over him. Stormy blue eyes grounded him, gave him something to stand on. There was a trust in them, a trust that he wouldn’t let Keith fall.

And in the end, it was those eyes that guided his actions, causing him to pull the glove from his right hand and hold it up so Lance could see the five black spots that marked his skin.

He could feel Lance’s gaze as he took in the marks, the heaviness of it making Keith want to put his glove back on, to hide the marks away again. But he didn’t move a muscle as Lance looked at it, waiting for some sort of reaction.

“You hide it.” Lance said softly, his voice too loud in the quiet apartment. “Why?”

Keith had known Lance would ask that question, still he wasn’t prepared for the swell of agony that gripped his heart. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t know _how_ to answer. How could he possibly explain his fear of the mark? How could he explain how terrified he was that it would disappear one day? How could he explain how he didn’t think he could handle the pain of being rejected by the one person that wasn’t supposed to reject him?

“Keith?”

In the end, Keith went with the same lie he’d told to anyone that had wondered the same thing. He’d gotten so good at telling it...he almost believed it. “I’m just not ready for a soulmate. Got some things to figure out first.”

An indescribable emotion flashed across Lance’s face, too fast for Keith to discern. However, it was quickly covered up, a forced smile forming on the brunette’s face.

“Makes sense. Thanks for showing me.”

“Um...yeah. No problem.” Keith said, slipping his glove back on, feeling much more protected with the mark hidden.

“Now, let’s eat! I’m starving!” Lance said, seeming to return to his normal self as he moved past Keith into the kitchen. Keith could see that Lance’s eyes remained dark, his bubbly exterior masking what was really going through Lance’s head.

Keith only wished he had the courage to ask.

\-----

The week that passed was probably one of the best weeks in Lance’s life. Everything seemed to fall into place for him all at once. Pidge had gotten ahold of Keith’s record just like they said they would - Lance didn’t ask how they did it; things like that were better left unknown - and Lance had found that Shiro hadn’t been wrong. Keith’s record was impressive. For someone as young as himself, Keith seemed to have a knack for police work.

Lance and Hunk had poured over his record, committing as much to memory as they possibly could. And then they got to work. Lance was as casual as possible, not wanting the other detectives he talked to to catch onto what he was doing. He was sly, just slipping in little things when he could, connecting it back to the topic at hand. He did it in the form of gossip, making sure the stories he told were juicy.

The detectives ate them up. They wouldn’t believe him at first, but the more Lance talked, the more he could see them fall into his trap. It was working perfectly. And, Lance could admit, he was having a lot of fun boasting about Keith behind his back.

Keith seemed to be in a better mood lately which Lance attributed to his and Hunk’s hard work. He had mentioned a few times that people had actually started talking to him. One person had apparently asked him for advice on a case. The situation wasn’t as good as it could have been, but it was a lot better than what it was. Soon enough Keith would be a regular member of the team...or so Lance hoped.

All of this news was relayed to him over lunch, of course. Lance hadn’t been joking about Keith owing him.

That being said…

It turned out that Keith had practically no skill in the kitchen which made sense when Lance thought about it. Keith had been eating on the go for years. Of course he’d never learn how to make himself a decent meal. So while they ate lunch at Keith’s place every day, it was Lance who actually prepared the meals. But in all honesty, Lance didn’t mind too much. Keith would always do the dishes afterwards, so it seemed like a fair trade.

Spending time with Keith was about the only thing Lance wanted to do. When he woke up all he could think about was seeing Keith at work. In the morning all he looked forward to was his lunch break so he could talk to Keith. In the afternoon Lance would stare at the clock, waiting for five o’clock to roll around so he and Keith could go do _something_.

Sometimes after work they would just head to either Keith’s or his apartment. The first time Keith stepped foot in Lance’s apartment he nearly had a heart attack. The only thing they did that night was clean per Keith’s insistence. Lance had argued that it was his place and he could live how he wanted. Not everyone needed Keith’s level of cleanliness to survive. Keith had countered by saying he’d never come over again if it wasn’t at least a little clean.

...Keith had won that argument.

Sometimes they went out and did things. Lance had dragged Keith to at least two of his favorite bars, practically forcing the raven-haired man to try all of Lance’s favorite drinks. It turned out that Keith’s tolerance for alcohol was much higher than Lance’s when at the end of the night Lance was moderately buzzed and Keith had practically felt nothing.

Keith’s soulmark wasn’t brought up again. It wouldn’t be a lie to say seeing it had shaken him a little. So, Lance made sure to steer all conversations away from anything having to do with soulmates. He didn’t want to think about what the future might hold. He didn’t want to think about how any day Keith’s soulmate could show up and shatter the happiness he’d found. And he knew that by not addressing it, he was only making it that much worse for him when the inevitable actually happened. But the part of him that cared for Keith was stronger than the part of him that was scared for the future. So, he continued to ignore the mark.

All things considered, life was good. Simple. Easy. And as Keith became a bigger part of his life, the warmth in Lance’s chest grew. And for a moment, only _just_ a moment, everything was perfect.

But then it all came crashing down.

The fall was fast. It came out of nowhere and was over before Lance had a chance to catch himself.

It had been a normal day. It was business as usual at the precinct. Lance had filled a few requests, bugged Pidge for a little while, ate lunch with Keith, and now was sitting at his desk filling out some of the weekly paperwork. Just the typical Friday. Everything had been fine.

Lance jumped when the door to the IT office burst open, slamming against the wall. He spun in his chair quickly, half expecting some enraged officer whose computer had frozen halfway through filling out some report. He was surprised to see Hunk, eyes wide with panic.

“Hunk? What’s-”

“It just came through on the radio!” Hunk said, talking quickly. “Officer down!”

Lance stood, fear gripping his heart, causing his lungs to contract.

“Who?” He choked out, praying to the universe that it was anyone but him.

Hunk didn’t reply, his eyes telling Lance everything he needed to know.

\-----

Desperation hung the air, an unwelcome guest to the many families that crowded the waiting room. It clung to the backs of fearful mothers and clawed at the ankles of lovers who wanted nothing more than to be by the side of their soulmate. For Lance, it weighed on him, a heaviness that sat in his chest where not too long ago a warmth had been.

Murmurs circulated the room, whispers of reassurance and hope. Lance gave none and received none. He knew no amount of comfort would calm the storm inside him. Panic ate away at him, threatening to consume all that he was. Terror was ripping him apart, digging its claws in deep and puncturing his very soul. Dread coursed through his veins, sending shots of adrenaline pulsing through him. He wanted to do more than just wait. He wanted to be of some use. But there was nothing he _could_ do. And that only served to amplify his current state of desperation.

Shiro sat next to him, clearly not any better off. It was his brother that had gotten hurt. It was his family member who might not pull through. And he had been the one to put him in the line of fire. Lance could only imagine the guilt that was weighing on Shiro at the moment.

The two had barely spoken. When Lance had first arrived, he had asked Shiro what had happened, what had gone wrong. The answer seemed almost too simple for the amount of anguish it caused. Keith and one of the other detectives had gone out to question an associate of the drug dealer they were after. It hadn’t even been that strong of a lead. The associate hadn’t had contact with the dealer in years. No one expected the dealer to be hiding out there.

He bolted out the window and down the fire escape and so the detectives gave chase, Keith heading back down the stairs and around the building to cut him off while his partner followed the dealer out the window. They had underestimated the dealer. They didn’t think he’d be smart enough to hide out in the alley, just waiting for Keith to turn the corner.

And eventually Keith did…

And then the dealer fired…

And then…

...Keith was down…

The bullet hit him in the chest. Keith didn’t even have a chance to fire back. Shiro had said neither detective had done anything wrong. Sometimes everything could be done right, and people still got hurt. It was just bad luck that it was Keith. Lance didn’t think it was bad luck. He blamed the universe. It had been fucking with him his entire life. This was probably just the latest in its long string of torments. So while Lance knew that he hadn’t been there. He knew that there was no way he could’ve stopped Keith from rounding that corner...he really couldn’t help but blame himself.

“Takashi.” An unfamiliar voice said, causing Lance to glance up.

“Adam.” Shiro said, standing. His voice was strained, tone laced with worry. “Is he...okay?”

Lance looked to the doctor that had come out of talk to them. His face was much kinder than most of the doctors Lance had seen. His dark brown eyes held a concern that went beyond the normal doctor-patient relationship.

“He just came out of surgery.” Adam said, keeping his voice low so the other people in the room couldn’t hear. “But he’s not out of the woods yet. The bullet scraped his right lung. It wasn’t punctured, but we need to keep a close watch to make sure the damaged tissue doesn’t completely tear.”

“What would happen if it tears?” Lance asked, a new kind of fear taking hold of him.

Adam looked hesitant to answer, but when Shiro gave him a small nod, the doctor finally said, “He could suffocate.”

Lance felt like he was falling, pushed over the edge by Adam’s words. He didn’t want to believe it. He just wanted to close his eyes and pretend like this was all just a nightmare. He wanted this to not be real. He wanted to go back in time and warn Keith. He wanted to stop Keith from leaving the precinct.

Lance felt his throat close up, a thought rising to the surface of his mind. What if Keith died without ever knowing how Lance felt? What if Lance had messed up by waiting too long? What if by worrying about not being Keith’s soulmate he had missed his chance? What if he was too late?

“When can we see him?” Shiro asked.

“Soon.” Adam replied. “He’s still in recovery from the surgery, but he’ll be waking up soon, albeit in a lot of pain. I’ll make sure to come get you.”

“Okay, thanks.” Shiro said, a pained smile crossing his face.

“Keith’s strong.” Adam said, laying a supportive hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “He’ll pull through. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Neither Shiro or Lance responded as Adam walked away, heading back towards the doors that led into the intensive care unit. Shiro sat back down next to Lance, letting out a long breath.

Lance dropped his eyes to the floor once more, thoughts only on the raven-haired man who had wandered into his life only a week ago. Lance didn’t think it was possible for one person to become so important in such a short time. But something about Keith just fit. It was like he made up everything that Lance wasn’t. He was modest, reserved, careful - Lance’s polar opposite. By all rights, they shouldn’t get along as well as they did. But...it worked. Everything about them worked.

And now Lance might lose him.

Lance could feel a fresh round of emotions start to rage in him. He didn’t think he could handle them. It simply hurt too much. So instead, he searched for something to distract him.

“Adam is your soulmate, right?” Lance asked. It was only a guess, but Adam had called Shiro by his first name. He also seemed to know Keith. So him being Shiro’s soulmate seemed like a strong possibility.

“Adam? Yeah, he is.” Shiro replied, seeming to be caught off guard by the question. Lance suspected he had been lost in his own thoughts, no doubt still worrying about Keith.

“How’d you meet?” Lance asked. Normally he wasn’t a fan of first contact stories, but right now it seemed a lot better than anything else that was happening.

“We met here, actually.” Shiro said, glancing up, eyes scanning the room. “At this hospital. I was a hot-headed rookie detective and he was fresh out of med school. Had just started his residency.”

Lance looked over to see a loving smile on Shiro’s face, his eyes swimming with the memory.

“Were you hurt or something?” Lance asked.

Shiro let out a breathy chuckle. “That I was. Dislocated shoulder. I was chasing a guy and when I went to tackle him...well, I caught the guy, but I landed wrong. My whole shoulder just popped right out of place.”

“Ouch…”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad...but I don’t regret it. In the end I caught my guy and got a soulmate out of it.” Shiro shrugged. “That seemed like a fair trade.”

Lance had to agree with that. “So what? Adam was the one who patched you up?”

“He was.” Shiro replied. “Popped my shoulder back into place, gave me a sling and some painkillers, and told me that life was gonna suck for a while.” Shiro let out another chuckle. “It wasn’t until he took his gloves off and offered to help me up that we knew. I’ll never forget what it was like to watch my mark disappear. The nurse in the room looked like she was about to pass out from excitement.”

“And what did Adam do?” Lance asked.

“He just looked at me and said he had to get back to work...and then he left.” Shiro replied, voice amused.

“What?” Lance asked in disbelief. “He left?”

“In his defense, I think he was just in shock.” Shiro said. “I went after him, of course. Found him, dragged him outside - with my good arm - and asked him out...and here we are today.”

“Sounds almost like a fairytale.” Lance said, a tiny smile on his face.

“In the moment it felt like one.” Shiro replied with a nod.

“Sounds nice…” Lance said, an ache forming in his chest. He’d never get a fairytale ending like that. It wasn’t meant for him.

“It is. I’m sure you’ll experience that one day too.”

The ache grew a little stronger. “No, I won’t.” He said, voice soft and strained. “I don’t have a soulmark.”

He saw Shiro glance at him, face surprised. It was only for a moment, though, his face shifting into one of understanding. “Since when did not having a soulmark mean you don’t get a happy ending?”

Lance scoffed. “Since always. Just ask anyone.”

“What do people know? Having a soulmark and having a soulmate are two separate things.” Shiro said, voice somewhat light.

“...what do you mean?” Lance asked hesitantly.

“Hmm...take me and Adam for example.” Shiro replied. “Sure, we both had soulmarks, but it took some time for us to become soulmates. We didn’t know each other. Soulmate or no, you can’t love someone you just met. But as we got closer, things just started to...fit. Everything sorta just fell into place.” Shiro gave Lance a supportive smile. “And only when we realized how good we were together did we become soulmates.”

“So what? You think I can be somebody’s soulmate without having a mark?” Lance asked, voice disbelieving.

“That’s exactly what I think.” Shiro said with a nod. “The universe is mysterious...but it seems to know what it’s doing. You shouldn’t give up on it just yet.”

Lance was silent, thoughts slightly jumbled. He’d never been told that before, that he _could_ have a soulmate. It had always been a flat no. It had always been pitying looks and feeling sorry for him. No one had ever given him hope. Not one single person. Not until this moment.

So…

What if…

What if Keith was his…

...soulmate...

\-----

Keith hurt. He hurt a lot. Every breath he took made it feel like his chest was on fire. He felt weak, his limbs too heavy for him to move easily. More than that, though, Keith was pissed. He was pissed because he had been dumb and got himself shot. He _knew_ how weirdly illusive that drug dealer was. He _knew_ that they were dealing with someone who was smarter than the average street dealer. He _knew_ that the dealer was known to carry weapons. And he  _still_ was stupid enough to turn down that alley. Sure, he had his gun drawn and sure, it wasn’t like he had done anything against protocol. But he was still smarter than that. He should’ve just stopped to _think_ for one second.

But he hadn’t and now he was paying the price.

In the moment, Keith remembered seeing his life flash before his eyes. There wasn’t much to look at. A shitty childhood followed by a shitty time in high school followed by a college student who was ignored by others around him. But after that, the images started to slow down. He had enjoyed his time as a beat cop. It had been unbearably boring sometimes, but it kept him busy.

Then came the snippets of his time as a detective, as short as it had been. He found that most of it was dominated by one blue-eyed brunette. He saw Lance storming away from him, refusing to give him the new mouse. He saw himself meeting Lance late at night, the slightly inebriated man insisting on walking him home. He saw a grumpy Lance, hair a mess as he declared his hatred for Keith all over again. He saw the defeated form of Lance on the floor, white plastic bags spread out around him after having jogged back to Keith’s apartment. He saw a drunk Lance sleeping outside his door without a care in the world, content to let Keith trip over him. He saw Lance’s head in his lap, the brunette having drifted off asleep hours ago. He saw all of those and so much more. All Lance.

And right before he fell unconscious, Keith’s last thought had been: _‘I never got to tell him…’_

But Keith had survived by some miracle. He was in a lot of pain and felt like at any moment he might bite the dust, but he was alive. That meant he had time. That meant he still had a chance. That was enough for him.

“Hey Keith.” He heard a familiar voice say from the door to the room he had been placed in after his surgery. Keith shifted his eyes over, spotting Adam. Of course it was Adam. Shiro wouldn’t have stood for anyone else. “You’ve got some visitors.”

Keith didn’t say anything. Talking hurt too much and he wasn’t about to willingly give himself more pain if he didn’t have to.

Adam stepped aside, letting Keith see Shiro who was now standing in the doorway. Keith’s lips twitched into a small smile at the almost frantic look on Shiro’s face. He really shouldn’t have expected anything different.

Shiro approached his bed, shaking his head. “When are you gonna stop giving me heart attacks?” His voice was serious, but Keith could see the brotherly playfulness in his eyes. “I’ve been on the phone with mom three times in the last hour because of you and you know how that woman can get. She insisted that I never let you back out into the field.”

Keith only shook his head, still not wanting to talk.

Shiro seemed to get the gist of the motion. “No, I’m not gonna listen to her, but it’s your job to call her and convince her.”

Keith gave him a displeased look to which Shiro chuckled.

“I’m serious. I’ve talked to her enough already.”

“Takashi.” Adam said, catching Shiro’s attention. “There’s some stuff I need to go over with you about his recovery. Spare a minute?”

“Of course.” Shiro said with a nod. He then turned to Keith and said, “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Keith nodded, watching as Shiro followed Adam out of the room. It was only once they were gone that Keith noticed another figure in the room, leaning against the wall near the door.

Lance.

He looked tired, an exhaustion that paled his skin and created dark circles around his eyes. He must’ve been worried... _really_ worried. A pang of guilt hit Keith in the stomach. That was his fault.

Still, Keith found his heart speeding up, the burning in his chest becoming overpowered by a wave of _something._ Keith had no name for the feeling. It felt like mornings spent drinking crappy coffee and talking about the previous night’s adventure. It felt like afternoons where gazes glanced around in hopes that indigo eyes would find blue. It felt like nights where quiet words were whispered over the hum of the ignored TV.

Keith had always thought he would be rejected by the one person that was supposed to accept him. He had believed in the deepest part of himself that he would be left alone, a disappointed soulmate telling him he wasn’t worth it. But right now, seeing just how drained Lance was, Keith was convinced that he could be loved.

Lance didn’t say anything as he pushed himself off the wall and approached Keith. His expression was a mixture of relief and uncertainty. Regardless, there was a smile on his face. It was small and not nearly as bright as usual, but it was there. His gaze met Keith’s, a hope present that hadn’t been before.

Neither spoke, the anticipation that filled the room too dense to puncture with words. Keith tore his gaze away from Lance, looking down at his right hand that lay bare on top of the bedsheets. The black marks seemed almost alive, like the universe was moving within them. And as Keith looked at them, he found that he no longer feared them. Instead, he accepted them, knowing that they had been right all along.

Keith lifted his arm, his movements slow. He held his hand up for Lance, spreading his fingers slightly. His eyes shifted back to meet blue ones, the hope that had been in them now mixed with fear.

“What if it’s not me?” Lance whispered, voice strained.

Keith swallowed, willing his voice into existence despite the pain. “It _is_ you...It’s always been you.”

Keith could see water start to build in Lance’s eyes, a joy filling his gaze. Lance raised his hand, fingers slightly trembling. There was no hesitation as he reached out and took Keith’s hand, fingers lacing with his and completely covering the marks.

A warmth grew in Keith’s hand, spreading up his arm and pulsing through the rest of him. It was like a hole in his chest was being filled, the missing piece finally found. Everything seemed to align in that one moment, the universe breathing a sigh of relief.

When Lance lifted his fingers just enough to see the back of Keith’s hand, neither were surprised to see pale skin undisturbed by any black marks.

Lance’s hand tightened in Keith’s again. Tears spilled from blue eyes, his expression morphing into a happiness so pure that it felt like the whole universe stopped to admire it.

Keith just held on. He held onto the warm fingers that pressed into the back of his hand. He held onto the thought that he had found his other half. He held onto the reality that his happy ending had finally arrived.

\-----

“Maybe you should just stay home today. I mean, why take any chances, right?”

Lance saw Keith roll his eyes, heading to the closet by the door to get his jacket. “Please don’t tell me you’re _that_ superstitious.”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that a year ago today you almost died. A little caution might be warranted. This could be your unlucky day or something.” Lance replied, grabbing his bag from the counter and slinging it over his shoulder.

Keith turned to face him, a flat look on his face. “You know as well as I do that today is anything but unlucky.”

Lance let out an irritated huff. “Just because _one_ good thing happened doesn’t mean that today is suddenly not a bad day.”

“One good thing? That’s underselling it a bit, don’t ya think?”

Lance didn’t respond, instead crossing his arms and giving Keith a defiant look. He wasn’t crazy. He knew that today was the one-year anniversary of Keith’s mark disappearing. He knew that one year ago today he had discovered that he had a soulmate. But it was also the one-year anniversary of him almost losing his soulmate. So excuse him if he was a little overprotective.

Keith sighed, “What if I promise to not go out in the field today? Strictly deskwork.”

Lance’s face lit up, a broad smile spreading across his face. “I can live with that.”

“Fantastic.” Keith said dryly. “Now can we please go before we’re late?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, let’s go.” Lance said, waving his hand haphazardly at Keith as he moved past him and out the door of their shared apartment.

The last year had been the best year of Lance’s life. Every day he woke up next to his soulmate and that was much better than waking up in some stranger’s bed. He and Keith were practically inseparable, a trait that Shiro insisted would wear off after the first couple years of being with a soulmate. In honesty, Lance didn’t see that happening, but he wasn’t about to tell Shiro that.

Of course the question had come up as to why Lance never had a soulmark. And while no one could really know for sure, Keith had seemed to have the best theory for it. He said that it was his fault, that he had covered his soulmark so he would never find his soulmate. He said he thought they would reject him, a thought that made Lance’s heart ache. But it seemed the universe responded in kind, delivering him his soulmate with no mark. Keith would never get close to someone with a soulmark. But with no mark? Lance had been safe. But that was just a theory. Mostly, they just chalked it up to the universe working in mysterious ways.

The two stopped outside of their apartment building, looking up at the tiny white flakes that floated down from the grey sky. The snow landed softly on the city landscape, covering the streets in white. A gentle wind swept by them, tousling Lance’s hair and pulling at his scarf.

“First snow of the year…” Lance said, continuing to look up in awe. He felt a hand take his own, skin cold, but soft.

“It seems the universe is wishing us a happy anniversary.” Keith said, squeezing Lance’s hand.

“You think?” Lance said, squeezing back.

“Yeah, I do.” Keith said, voice soft.

Lance turned his gaze to him, blue eyes meeting indigo. A soft smile rested on his face, cheeks turned red from the cold. “Maybe today isn’t so unlucky after all.”

Keith chuckled, a musical sound that seemed to drift along perfectly with the snowfall. “Told you.”

“Shut up.” Lance said, pulling at Keith’s hand. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

Keith only pulled back, harder than Lance was expecting. He found himself stumbling into Keith’s arms, bodies pressed together.

Lance felt his cheeks heat up, turning red from slight embarrassment rather than from the cold.  He could feel the warmth of Keith’s breath on his face, causing his heart to race in his chest. A year later and he still couldn’t help getting flustered over the raven-haired detective who had become the biggest part of Lance’s life.

“People are probably staring…” Lance said, not even trying to move away from Keith’s embrace.

A playful glint danced in Keith’s eyes. “Let them.”

And then Keith leaned forward and captured Lance’s lips, the kiss slow and sweet. It filled Lance with a love that not even the universe could comprehend. And he didn’t want it to. Keith was his. Now and forever. And he didn’t plan on sharing.

The snow continued to fall, the wind continued to blow, the universe continued to move forward. But right now? For them? Everything had stopped.

And if it just so happened to stay that way?

Well, that was alright with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I had a good time writing this bad boy. I find writing soulmate AUs to be something challenging for me so it was fun to branch out and try something new. If you feel like letting me know your thoughts on this story, I would greatly appreciate that. 
> 
> If you want some more of that sweet, sweet Klance content, follow me on tumblr: [@canyoufeelthelagnsttonight](https://canyoufeelthelangsttonight.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks for stopping by,  
> ~Redjay


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